


Even if it Hurts Like Hell

by HiddenBookShelf



Category: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man (Video Game 2018), Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Shattered Dimensions (Video Game), Spider-Man: Web of Shadows (Video Game)
Genre: Angst and Tragedy, Black Suit Spider-man - Freeform, Drama, F/M, Gen, Miles Morales Needs a Hug, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker has the Venom Symbiote, Post-Spider-Man PS4, Sinister Six - Freeform, Spider-man PS4 Sequel, Trauma, Ultimate Spider-Man - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-01
Updated: 2019-09-26
Packaged: 2020-05-31 11:42:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 28,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19425274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HiddenBookShelf/pseuds/HiddenBookShelf
Summary: "The hardest thing about this job is... you can't always save everybody..."In the year since Li's terror attacks and Otto's biochemical plague, New York City has been on the edge when it comes to masked vigilantes.And when another masked villain threatens the fragile peace, the city is forced to take a deeper look at the attacks and the superheroes who have failed to stop them... and who may have had a hand in causing them.Post-Spider-man PS4





	1. A Loaded God Complex

> Chapter One: A Loaded God Complex

Peter sat with his elbows resting on his knees and his head buried in his hands. On any other day, he wouldn’t be caught dead sitting crisscrossed on ground level; But today wasn’t an ordinary day. “Today we gather to remember those lost in a horrific terrorist attack that took place a year ago…” The voice droned on and Peter closed his eyes tightly. He didn’t want to be there, but he had made a promise.

“Pete?”

He flinched and looked up as MJ walked towards him. She had a press badge on her jacket and a camera around her neck. He hoped that she wrote a fair story about him when the time came. And he hoped that nothing exciting happened today to make a story worth anything. “Hey…” She approached him gently. He tried to keep his voice as calm and steady as possible. “Big crowd out there?”

She knelt in front of him, putting a hand on his arm with a nod. Great… “I thought you’d be on the rooftop, waiting for your cue.” They were honoring him and his part in taking down the Demons and Otto Octavius. “When do you go on?”

“After the police chief gives her speech,” he muttered. He wasn’t used to being honored for anything. His territory was being briefly congratulated or yelled at by citizens and bystanders. There was a small subset of people that didn’t believe he deserved to be honored for anything that had to do with those attacks. He was inclined to agree with them. He hadn’t been there to save the people who had died in the bombing or afterward when the Demons gunned down the survivors. He hadn’t stopped Otto before he unleashed a bioweapon on the city. He hadn’t saved May. “I don’t deserve their praise.”

She released a longsuffering sigh. “Yes, you do. You can’t save everyone and you’re going to kill yourself trying to.”

It was an old and tired argument and he knew she was sick of it. He had a guilty conscious. If someone died in a drive-by shooting across town while he was saving a bus full of people, he’d feel guilty about the shooting victim. MJ had learned to help him through his thoughts of self-doubt, though. She knew him too well to just tell him to get over it. They both knew that he would eventually stop feeling sorry for himself, but it took a while. “I just don’t feel like a hero today.”

She stood and looked down at him. “You know you did all you could. Those people who died… that wasn’t your fault. _May_ wasn’t your fault.” He flinched. The weeks following his Aunt’s death had been some of the hardest in his life. Having MJ and Miles, and his job at F.E.A.S.T, to help him through it had been the only reason he survived. Invoking her name was a low blow, but she hadn’t meant it to make him feel bad. She invoked May’s name because she knew he needed to hear it.

He sighed, giving in. “I don’t deserve you.”

“I know.” She held out her hands to help him up. He hesitated a moment. “Do you know what you’re going to say?”

He took her hands. “No. I figure I’ll just wing it… Or, web it.”

She smiled and bopped him gently on the head. “Not as good as your usual material.”

“I’m running on fumes.” He stretched his arm over his head. “I did several sweeps of the area. There doesn’t seem to be any copycat criminals out there today.”

She nodded. “That’s good.” He turned towards the direction of the memorial service as the mayor finished the moment of silence and introduced the chief of police. “That’s your cue, Tiger.”

He sighed and jumped onto the wall, heading up to the roof of the building. The chief of police was giving a great memorial for the officers lost and a promise that they will work diligently and make sure these things never happened again. Peter crouched on the lip of the building. The chief should be Yuri… but that was another problem that he had to deal with. She hadn’t gone completely AWOL, but she was heading in that direction. Another person he couldn’t save. _She doesn’t want you to save her, Pete,_ he berated silently. If she didn’t want saving, though, then she needed something else… and neither one of them were ready for that.

“And with the help of Spider-man, stability has returned to our city.”

He sighed. That was his cue for real. He took a deep breath and jumped from the building before heading towards the stage. He expected his senses to go off as he walked up. This was one of the few non-combat situations where the villains knew where he’d be and when. Everything seemed quiet. He passed one of the officers and nearly flinched when he noticed the large gun the man was carrying. This was ridiculous.

He stepped onto the stage and nodded to the chief. “Thank you, Officer,” he said. He had agreed to say a few words, but he felt like he had nothing to say to these people to help put their mind at ease. This was probably the first time many of them had seen him up close and personal. “One year ago, tragedy struck our city…” He trailed off as some hecklers began shouting at him in the crowd. He scanned the area until he saw MJ standing in the crowd. She nodded slowly, encouraging him to keep going. He tried. “I—”

“Where were you?” a voice shouted, cutting off his speech.

Peter swallowed. “I—I…” he stammered. He had been unconscious in the middle of the bombing. What could he say? He was busy stopping a mugging while the second largest terrorist attack in New York City was going on? “I can’t be every—”

“What was more important?” a woman shouted. Peter clenched his fists. He locked onto MJ, who now looked worried. She tried to offer him an encouraging smile. It had no comforting affect.

“Nothing,” he admitted quietly. “Nothing is more important to me than saving lives.”

“Then where were you?” the woman challenged. He could see her now. She was middle-aged and her eyes were bloodshot, and her face was puffy and red.

The chief stepped forward to stop this, but Peter put his arm up. “Let her talk,” he whispered. He needed to hear this. He needed them all to hear this.

“Ma’am…”

“I lost my son in that bombing!” she snapped, cutting him off. “And you weren’t there to save him!”

Peter flinched as she walked towards the stage. The police there reached for their guns as she neared them. Peter also stiffened in preparation. She wouldn’t try anything… would she? That would be suicide.

“I’m sorry,” was all he could say. He had gone through this with Miles; but he had the ability to tell Miles that he had been there, but the bomb had caught him off guard. He couldn’t tell these people that. He wasn’t a human to them; he was a hero; an idea.

“He can’t save everyone!” MJ shouted from where she was. Peter looked towards her and silently begged her to keep her mouth shut. He didn’t need her help. He didn’t _want_ her help. If she drew attention to herself, she might be dragged into this.

Shouts rang out from the crowd as people argued with one another. Peter looked at the gathered group, clenching his fists. He wanted to run, but that wouldn’t help. All that would do would show them that he was a coward. He needed to face this. “Please!” he called into the mic, trying to pacify the crowd. “I wasn’t there, and I’m sorry! I can’t be everywhere…! The bombing… it happened so quickly…!”

“Sorry doesn’t bring my son back!” The crowd fell into a hush as the woman reached into her bag and pulled out a handgun. Peter froze and the officers around him all drew their weapons. “Your apologies are empty, Spider-man, and their blood is on your hands! _You_ killed my son.”

He held his hands up and stepped out from behind the podium. The police chief gave him a warning look and he merely nodded back at her, assuring her that it was okay. The woman couldn’t hurt him. He walked towards the edge of the stage, but not close enough to where if she fired a shot, he couldn’t dodge. “No… my apologies don’t make it better,” he said as gently as he could. “But that’s all I have to offer you.”

“You can offer your life.” And she fired. Peter was quick. He jumped into the air, and the bullet passed harmlessly under his back as he fired a web to take the gun from her hand. But it was too late. The officers fired their weapons. Screams echoed throughout the crowd as Peter landed back on the stage. The woman’s body lay strewn on the ground in a growing puddle of blood. He dropped the gun he had taken from her and the sound it made as it clattered on the stage was deafening. His eyes darted around the crowd and his stomach churned as he saw the looks on their faces. Fear and anger were reflected back at him in their eyes.

He took one last look at the body. He wanted it etched in his mind. He wanted to never forget it… because the people of New York wouldn’t.

He fired a web and took off away from the ceremony. He had known this was a bad idea. When he was far away, he tore off his mask and slid down against on air conditioning unit; and then he screamed.

“The people now are being forced to ask the question; what role do superheroes and vigilantes play in our society.” The reporter turned to the guest she had on the show. “J. Jonah Jameson, a local radio show host is here to discuss the dangers of our superpowered residents. Mr. Jameson, you’ve been an outspoken opponent of super heroism in our city.”

The man shook his head. “I hate that I was right about this. The death of Angela Mason was an inevitable consequence of having masked vigilantes running around our fair city, and Spider-man should be held responsible for it! But where is he? He’s hiding behind his mask like the gutless coward he is!”

MJ sighed behind Peter and turned off the TV from where she stood in the doorway of the living room. “You’re torturing yourself. You aren’t to blame for her death.”

Peter closed his eyes. He had been watching the news non-stop since the ceremony and it _was_ torture… but he couldn’t stop. He had to own up to what happened. “They’re being very specific about my involvement in her death.”

“She fired a weapon in a sea of police officers. She knew what that meant and she made that choice, Peter,” MJ tried to assure him. She hadn’t been home in the two days since the incident, but he knew she needed to go to work soon. They both did. “There was nothing you could have done.”

He stood. “I could have saved her son.”

“You were unconscious!”

He leaned against the wall. Maybe now wasn’t the time to be having this argument. It wasn’t an easy one to have because he couldn’t just let these things go and MJ could never understand why. “Yeah, I was.”

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Act like you’re ignoring this.”

He bit back a retort. If he moped about it, she got angry at him. If he tried to deflect, she got angry at him. He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do. So, he just smiled. “At least I gave JJ enough material to riff on me for months,” he said with a laugh.

She looked away from him. She didn’t appreciate the comment. “I have to go to work, Pete. Will you be okay?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine.” He offered her a genuine smile. He _would_ be fine. This was just another speed bump in the long list of speed bumps in his life. It wasn’t anything special. She didn’t look convinced. “I promise, MJ, I’ll be fine. I’ll take Miles out tomorrow if that’ll make you feel better.”

“I’d rather you go talk to someone.”

His smile faded. “I would if I could… you know that.”

She walked to him and kissed him gently on the forehead. “I know. You call me if you need anything, alright? I’ve already told Robbie that I’m on call for a friend.”

He frowned. “Friend?” She laughed and pushed him gently on the chest. “I kid. Go, write stories, expose lies! I’ll… visit Otto.”

The good humor in the room vanished at the mention of his old employer and friend. MJ shifted and he figured that was because she didn’t like that he still visited the man. After everything he had done, it was probably weird to her to think that he still cared enough to visit. “How… how is he?”

Peter shrugged. “Not good and deteriorating fast. He’s lost almost all motor function…”

She wanted to say that it was a good thing. He could see that on her face. Maybe it _was_ a good thing… but he had been driven mad by his failing body and the wrongs that others had done to him. Under certain circumstances, Peter could see himself falling into the same trap. He didn’t bother trying to get her to understand, though. He knew that MJ didn’t like his weekly visits to the Raft; but he was all Otto had left. He hadn’t told her that the man knew his secret and so far, none of the villains knew, so maybe Otto was keeping it a secret. For what purpose, Peter didn’t know, but he liked to pretend it was because deep down, Otto still cared.

MJ walked him to the subway, and he took the now familiar route to the prison and the ferry. He was one of the few people that even visited the Raft. Most people who had family in there were more than willing to let them rot to hell. It was always depressing. They were hesitant to even let him in for visitation, but once Spider-man vouched for Peter Parker to be allowed in, the warden had given him visitation rights.

He scanned his visitor pass and he was led through the prison to the medical ward where they were keeping Otto. When he first got there, the man had been kept in the normal area of the prison, but as his condition deteriorated, he had been moved to the medical ward. The doctors didn’t give him much longer, and a small part of Peter almost looked forward to the day that Otto Octavius died.

“You have an hour,” the guard told him. Peter nodded his thanks and noted the man’s annoyed expression as he walked in. “Are you ever going to give up on that guy?”

“No,” Peter said without looking back. He sat down beside the chamber that they were now keeping the Doctor in. “Hey, Doc…” he muttered, putting his hand on the little window. The man inside was a sad sight. His body was withering away, and his muscles were atrophied. It hurt him every time he came; but like MJ had said, he was torturing himself. He couldn’t help but feel like he could have prevented this as well.

“Parker…” Peter winced. His voice was strained and weak. “Again?”

“What can I say?” he asked with a shrug. “How are you? They’re feeding you okay, right?”

“Yeah…” he grumbled. “Why are you here?”

“To see you.” Otto asked that of him a lot. Maybe it was because his mind was deteriorating as well; but he doubted that. The doctors had said that his mind wouldn’t be touched by the disease. That was the terrible truth of the disease. One day Otto would lose all function and his body would wither away... but his mind would remain aware throughout the process. No… he asked the question because he was hoping one day that Peter would give a different answer.

Otto laughed; a sad, wheezing sound. “You’re here to watch me die slowly.”

“No.”

“Don’t kid yourself.”

Peter sighed. It always came to this. Usually it took longer. Otto usually let him talk for a while about the news and how the outside world was going. Now the man just seemed impatient. “How long do you have?”

“A few months… at most.” He laughed again and Peter looked away. He hated that the news was coming as a relief to him. Maybe he could finally move on from that time of his life once Otto was gone. “Counting down the days?”

“N-no,” Peter gasped, horrified that Otto would think that, and even more horrified that he was almost correct. “Not at all. I just… wish there was a way I could help you.”

Otto shook his head. “Always so… noble, Peter… wanting to help people who don’t deserve it. Who don’t appreciate it… That’s what’s going to get you killed out there.”

“I’d rather die trying to protect people than live as a coward,” he said with a shrug. “Even if they don’t shower me with praise… this city is worth it. _They_ are worth it.”

“Am I?”

“I still come here every week, don’t I?” he challenged.

“That’s the stupid thing about you,” Otto laughed. Peter nodded in agreement. Yes, it was stupid. He shouldn’t care about the man. He should just give up, move on with his life and leave Otto to rot in this prison… but he couldn’t. He still wanted a cure. He wanted to help Otto. Even if helping him meant that he would still just rot in prison. “I heard the news about the memorial.”

“Oh?”

“They hate you, Peter… no matter what you do, they will _always_ hate you. You’ll lose everything. Everything you’ve ever lived for will abandon you…!” He coughed and Peter stood. He didn’t need to take this and coming here had been a mistake. It was a mistake every time. “You think you can carry on like this? That city is one bad day away from turning on you!”

“You’re sick,” Peter said after a long pause. He didn’t mean it in a rude way. Otto _was_ sick, and he wanted to help him. “And I will get you help.”

Otto shook his head. “So… foolish… an imprudent, irrational child. You think you can save the world? Keep the city safe? Your God complex is worse than the villains you face because you think you can control what won’t. You can’t save the people who don’t want to be saved.”

Peter clenched his fists. “And what do you want, Doctor? Do you want to be saved?”

“If you were trapped in this useless body, would _you_?” Otto asked.

Peter blinked. He hadn’t thought about it before. If someone was jumping off a building to kill themselves, was it his right to save them? If a woman stepped forward with the intention of committing police assisted suicide, should he save them? His gut reaction was to say yes… every life was worth something, even the ones that the people didn’t want. After all, he could have killed Otto when he had the chance… but he didn’t. Would it have been better if he had? “I’d want to give myself a fighting chance,” Peter answered at length. “Even if that meant living in your condition.”

“We’ll see, Parker…” Otto coughed as Peter backed away. That sounded like a threat. Maybe he wouldn’t come next week… or the week after. “We will see…”

Peter turned away from the chamber and hurried out of the medical bay. He looked at the rude guard as he walked by him. He tried not to look like he had been shaken. That would mean admitting that the man had been right about his visits to the Raft. “See you next week, Peter?”

Peter kept walking without answering him.


	2. Cracks in the Illusion

> Chapter Two: Cracks in the Illusion

Peter kept his head down as he walked down the street towards F.E.A.S.T. On a normal day, he’d be swinging, but ever since the memorial service, he hadn’t been able to idly swing around the city without hecklers and projectiles flying towards him. He’d rather this life be easier, but that wasn’t going to happen. He picked up his phone as it rang. “Hey, MJ,” he answered, pausing at a crosswalk. “How’s the daily grind?”

“Good,” she said. Her voice was tight, and he tried to ignore it. She’d tell him if there was something wrong. “Pete… I spoke with Robbie today.”

“Oh?” he asked, walking across the street. He braced himself. “Did that go well?”

“It did…” It didn’t sound like it had, but Peter let her talk. If their relationship was going to work, he had to let her go at her own pace without him pushing her. “He… he wants me back in the field… overseas”

Peter nearly stopped in the middle of the street, but he managed to keep moving. She had just recently come back from an assignment overseas in Silver Sable’s home country. Not having her here had been hard, but he hadn’t said anything that would have made her feel guilty for leaving. “When?” he managed to squeak out.

“The plane leaves tomorrow morning; early…” She paused and took in a long breath. “For six weeks.”

He closed his eyes. She sounded guilty about what she was doing… but he didn’t want her to. She should never apologize for advancing her career. “That’s great!” he said after taking a moment to compose his voice. If it cracked, she would have second thoughts. He didn’t want her to go, but if they were ever going to work, he needed to let her live her life outside of Spider-man.

She sighed. It didn’t sound like she was as happy as he was trying to pretend to be. He wanted her to be happy and excited about her job. If they were sending her overseas, that meant she was a hard-hitting journalist who wrote impressive stories. “I don’t know if I should go…”

This time, he did stop. Shouldn’t go? He shook his head. “No, MJ, you _should_ go,” he urged.

“But you…”

“I’m _fine,”_ he assured her. “Don’t put your career on hold for me. I’ve got Miles and Rio here, and there hasn’t been a world-ending event in almost a year.” He sighed deeply and started walking again, rejoining the flow of foot traffic. “Why don’t you come by F.E.A.S.T. later and we’ll talk about it.” There wasn’t anything to talk about. He wasn’t about to let her throw this away just because he was having some self-doubt about his life. If everyone put their lives on hold every time he felt sorry for himself, no one would ever get anything done. No one would have a life of their own.

The daily grind at F.E.A.S.T. was enough to keep him busy for the majority of the day. When MJ came to see him, he nearly dropped everything and ran to her. She walked past the people there and went right to him. “Hey, Pete,” she whispered.

He smiled. “Hey, MJ.” He motioned her to May’s old office, and she sat on the couch while he sat behind the desk. Since May’s death and Li’s arrest, the shelter had been struggling to stay afloat. It wasn’t much of a job, and it barely paid the rent, but he was glad to have something to keep his mind busy. It also helped that the job was helping people. He missed working in science but being burned once had made him more cautious about what he was doing with his life. She looked around the office; anywhere but at him. “Where are they sending you?” he asked after a minute. Her lack of eye contact hurt him more than he thought it would. He wanted her to be excited about her career.

“Iran,” she muttered, keeping her head down. He resisted the urge to feel worried about that. “But I don’t think I’ll take it. Brock showed interest in taking the job.”

He stood and looked down at the desk. “MJ, please… don’t let Eddie have it just because you think I need you to stick around.” He offered her a smile. “Your career is more important.”

“Than your health?” she asked. That startled him a little. Did she think he was going to do something stupid if she wasn’t there to hold his hand? He wanted to be mad about that, but he had to remind himself that she had probably felt the same way every time he tried to hold her hand.

He walked around the desk, leaning on it. “My health is fine. This will pass. It always does.”

She shook her head. “I wish you wouldn’t downplay this, Peter… What happened at the service… you’re avoiding it.”

“I’m not avoiding it. It happened and there’s nothing anyone else can do about it.” He shrugged before picking up a picture of May on the desk and studying it absently. “You always tell me that I need to move on from things that I can’t control, and when I do, you think there’s something wrong.”

She didn’t answer him at first. Instead she walked around the office, looking at various things on the wall. He waited patiently for her to find her thoughts. “I think there’s something wrong because I _know_ you. You don’t just let things go. You haven’t talked to me, or Miles, about it, and you didn’t see Otto this week.”

“I thought you didn’t like it when I saw him.”

“I didn’t, but you _did_.”

He looked away. This wasn’t what he wanted to talk about. He wanted her to be excited about her career. He wanted her to be happy that things were going her way for once… but she was acting like it was the worst thing that could have happened. _Maybe not the worst thing,_ he thought dejectedly, _but the worst timing._ He sighed. “It happened, MJ. A woman died because I didn’t save her son and the grief drove her to try and assassinate me in a sea of police. _That_ happened, and it sucks, but like you said, I can’t change it. All I can do is try and accept it.” She didn’t answer. He looked up at the ceiling. “I want you to do what’s best for you and your career. I don’t want you to spend all your time worrying about me. These things… they _will_ pass. But your opportunities won’t keep coming.” He walked towards her and grabbed her arms gently. “I will be fine.” He smiled. “I always am.”

She leaned against his chest and he hugged her gently. With all the powers he had, he could crush a person in his arms, so every hug was a conscious effort not to hurt the person in his arms… “If you’re sure.”

“Of course I’m sure.” She didn’t look convinced, but he knew that she wanted to go; and he wanted her to go. “I’ll go with you to the airport tomorrow morning. I’ve got some patrolling to do, but it shouldn’t take all night.”

She smiled. “Alright.” He kissed her gently on the forehead. He’d be okay. Nothing had gone drastically wrong in his life recently… yet…

When night fell, he put on the suit and headed out. Miles wasn’t supposed to be patrolling with him, since it was a school night, but sometimes the kid didn’t stay home when he was supposed to. Peter stood on top of a building looking over Central Park and stretched as he observed the city. Some of crimes were being broadcast in his ear, but they were quickly being picked up by the police. He yawned. “Might be a boring night tonight,” he said to the wind. He jumped off the building and landed gracefully on the sidewalk leading into the park. Patrolling wasn’t all he wanted to do that night. Being Spider-man allowed him some alone time when Miles wasn’t around.

“What am I going to do with that kid?” he asked the trees around him. Miles was an eager learner, but Peter had been too worried to allow him to get further into the crime fighting business. He wanted Miles to be safe and to get his life together _before_ he took on a superhero job. Fighting crime wasn’t something he should be pursuing. He should take the time he had to be a kid, unlike Peter had done. He had taken his powers seriously too quickly, and now, a year after he took down his “Great White Whale,” he was still roaming the streets in a red and blue, skin-tight costume beating up criminals every night while trying to balance a job. That wasn’t a life and he didn’t know why Miles thought that it sounded fun. “It’s not fun,” he tried to convince the bushes. “And it’s going to get him killed. It should have gotten _me_ killed by now.”

The shrubbery wasn’t much for conversation. He kept to the path, listening to the reports come over his comms idly. “What are you doing, Pete?” he berated.

“Spider-man…”

He flinched as the female voice came over his link. “Yuri,” he greeted, letting a bit of bitterness enter his voice. That was a problem he wasn’t willing to deal with right now. She was still on the police force, but she was slowly turning into a corrupt cop and their bond had been all but shattered.

She didn’t acknowledge his bitterness. “There’s a break-in at ESU.”

He paused his walk. “What’s at ESU?” They could aside their differences long enough to stop whatever was happening. A break-in wasn’t usually what they would call him for. The police were equipped enough to take those kinds of crimes.

“Some traveling artifact exhibit.”

He sighed and fired a web, changing direction to head towards the campus. “Black Cat?” he asked. If it was Felicia, then that would at least make sense as to why he was the first person they called. It was like old times and it felt good to be talking to her again… but the peace between them couldn’t last. He’d still have to bring her in eventually. Luckily, eventually wasn’t today.

“No. Sources say that Quentin Beck escaped the Raft last week. We think he’s the one pulling off the heist.”

“Mysterio?” Peter asked, and then he shook his head. This was going to be easy, then. Even with a masked freak, it still didn’t make very much sense that they wanted _him_ on this case. “Any idea what he’s after?”

“No. There’s nothing particularly valuable in there,” Yuri answered. He pulled himself over building, launching into the air. “Nothing that’s worth breaking into ESU for, anyway. There’s not a large market for stolen ancient artifacts.”

“They’re priceless,” he grunted as he ran up the side of a building.

“Yes; priceless enough that no one will buy them.”

“Fair.” He landed on a flagpole in the courtyard of the campus. There didn’t seem to be anything amiss. No alarms were blaring and nothing was out of place. How’d they even know that this was happening? “How’d he get out, anyway?”

“Not really sure.” Her tone indicated a shrug. “They said he had help, but we don’t know who he’s working with.

He jumped from the pole onto the roof of the exhibit hall. He still saw nothing to indicate a heist; but this _was_ Mysterio. Seeing wasn’t always believing. “So, someone springs Mysterio out of the big house and the first thing he does is rob a school art show?”

“Sure,” Yuri said. He imagined she was rolling her eyes.

“I’ll keep you in the loop.” He hung up as he crept into the hall. It was decorated to look like a museum with several pieces protected behind glass casing. He walked by some, slowing down just enough to look at some of the items. Most were just pots, other household items, and weapons from ancient civilizations. A few seemed to be religious artifacts, but Yuri was right… none of this would go for much on the Black Market. No museum would buy stolen goods and collectors wouldn’t be interested in most of this stuff.

He stopped in front of one particular glass case and cocked his head. It was some tablet with writing that he couldn’t even begin to understand. He reached up to touch the glass but froze before making contact. His senses were beginning to tingle, and he smiled as he turned. Sure enough, a man in a green outfit, a purple cape and a fishbowl was standing several yards behind him. “Beck!” he greeted with a laugh. “Long time, no see! I see your fashion sense hasn’t improved much. How was prison?” Beck said nothing. “You know, there are better things to do with your newfound freedom. Why are you stealing? And _what_ are you here for?”

“That,” he said, pointing to the case behind Peter. He turned for a moment to look at the tablet. He scanned the information on the plaque underneath it. The plaque said nothing of interest. Just that no one knew what the tablet was originally made for and the language on it was not known to modern man.

“This? Some weird tablet?” He motioned to a beautiful vase to Beck’s left. “That would go for more on the market, I would think. This old tablet is worthless. No one would pay for that.”

“It’s not all about the money, Spider-man.”

“Of course it is. It’s always about the money! Do you need enough to skip town? Find a place to stay?” He stepped forward and acted like he had gotten an idea. “I can get you a place to stay; free room and board, and three square meals a day. It’s called prison.”

“I just need the tablet.”

“And I need a better love life, but you don’t see me trying to steal things to fix that.”

Beck laughed. “You bring this on yourself, Spider-man.”

Peter smirked. “You know I’ve beaten you before… Your illusions are impressive, but they won’t work a second time.”

“We will see.” He held out his hands and a green mist spread across the floor, hugging the ground like a dense cloud. Peter dared to take a whiff. It wasn’t a gas at least. Something seemed to be moving in the cloud and Peter crouched, tracking the thing with his eyes. Nothing was setting off his senses. He had mastered the art of fighting the illusionist. As long as his senses didn’t flare up, he wasn’t in any danger. The thing rose from the green mist, revealing a giant cobra. Peter looked at it without much interest. The detail on the illusion was fascinatingly real. He felt like he could reach out and touch it. The green mist had settled on the scales, creating green droplets that moved slowly on the curves on the beast. “You’ve gotten better, Beck,” he said with a shrug. “I’ll admit that.”

The cobra struck and Peter’s senses hit the fan. He went to dodge, but he hadn’t been preparing for the jump. The beast didn’t bite him, but it did strike his shoulder, throwing him off balance.

He jumped back from the animal, rubbing his shoulder. “What… what the…!” The cobra hissed loudly. “It can’t be… _real!”_ he gasped.

“Reality is relative,” Beck said with a shrug.

“No… It’s not!” Peter snapped. “Reality is reality and that’s it!”

“Then is that snake real?” he asked. Peter heard the smirk in his voice, and it infuriated him. He looked back at the cobra as it watched him like he was a mouse. His shoulder throbbed dully. _Something_ had hit him. That wasn’t an illusion. The snake hissed again, opening its mouth to reveal fangs that were like swords. Venom dripped from them. He took a step back. “Is it real, Spider-man?”

“No,” Peter said. Facing off against a cobra of that size should be making his senses flare. Cobras were deadly and fast. If his life was in danger, he’d know it.

“Then why not let it bite you?”

Peter rolled his eyes. He wanted to look at Beck, but he didn’t want to take his eyes off the maybe-real snake. “Is this where you start lecturing me? Usually that’s saved for when you villains think you’ve won.”

“I _have_ won.”

“Right. You’ve got me staring down an illusion. Congratulations, you’ve won.”

“Thank you.”

Peter’s sense jumped up and he spun as another large snake went to strike from behind. He just barely jumped away from the striking animal. He landed in a crouch. “Okay, so you’ve got two large snakes. I’m proud of you.”

Before Beck retorted, the lights in the exhibit hall went dark, plunging the room in darkness. “Come on, Beck! You _know_ I fight you better in the dark!”

His senses went off and he spun, expecting to punch a snake or another animal. Instead, his fist met flesh, not scales, and he pulled the punch before it tore his target’s jaw off. Another signal came at him and he aimed a kick, throwing another attacker back. He was fighting people… or humanoid robots. As he fought more of these attackers, he couldn’t help but wonder when and how did Beck get these resources? Yuri had said he escaped last week. That wasn’t enough time to amass resources like this. Whoever had gotten him out of the Raft had obviously given him these things.

Why would they give him all these robots? Surely, they had to be androids or life decoys. Mysterio had no way of recruiting people to his crazy scheme, no matter what they promised him. “All this…” he shouted as he dodged another attack and countered. “For a tablet?”

The tablet! He spun and ran towards the glass case, but his hand hit nothing when he reached for it. “Damn it, Beck!” As he was warned of another attack, he spun around and punched whoever was coming. He let his anger get the best of him. His hand pushed through a rib cage and he pulled it back, horrified. He had been wrong in guessing what he was fighting. These… they weren’t robots! And he had just broken someone’s ribs.

The lights came on and the green mist was dissipating. The tablet was gone, and so was Beck and his snakes. Peter cursed under his breath as he looked around the room. People were strewn across the ground, unconscious, but alive. He clenched and unclenched his fists, glad that he had pulled his punches. These people were students from ESU and security guards. Innocent civilians.

“How did you pull this one off…?” he mused aloud as he walked to the case where the tablet had been. “The Tablet of Order and Chaos…” he read. It was then that he noticed that Beck, in all his planning, had missed turning off one security camera.


	3. For What It's Worth

> Chapter Three: For What It's Worth

After calling 9-1-1 to make sure someone would come for the people he had accidently injured, Peter left the scene before the police and the ambulances showed up. It was weird enough that no alarms had gone off… but the fact that the police had taken this long to get there was a little disconcerting. Were they starting to slack in their duties? And if so, why?

When he got home, he pulled off his mask and sat at his computer desk. He knew he should get to bed since he had to meet MJ at around 4:30 AM to get her to the airport, but he needed to know what Mysterio was after. What made that tablet worth risking prison to steal?

In his research as the night wore on, Peter found that the Tablet of Order and Chaos was an artifact written in a language that wasn’t known to man. The legends surrounded the slab stated that it was said to grant immeasurable power to anyone able to read and understand the text carved into it. A year ago, Peter might have laughed at such an accusation. As a man of science, Peter didn’t believe much in the magic that Mysterio peddled; but after Martin Li, he was beginning to believe in things he would have never thought to be true. Whether or not Beck would be able to read the tablet was up in the air. According to these sources, many people throughout the decades had tried. But Beck had wanted it and was willing to risk going back to prison just to get it. It had to mean _something._

When his alarm went off, Peter jumped and stood from his desk, throwing on his clothes over his suit. Another night without sleep, it seemed. It was Friday, which meant he was taking Miles out on patrol that night. He liked taking the kid out in the city because it meant his night was less hectic. He was still handling Miles with kid gloves, and he avoided the big things when he had Miles around. And if things got too mad, he’d send him home. Hopefully Beck didn’t need to steal a magic wand from a toy store tonight. Just because Peter knew how to keep his cool in a sparring match with the illusionist, it didn’t mean Miles was ready for an encounter with him.

As he dressed, the familiar sound of Jameson’s intro began playing. He aimed his webshooter to shut off the radio but stopped himself before firing. The memorial service was still fresh in everyone’s minds, but even Jameson knew which dead horses to stop beating. “Good morning, listeners!” the bombastic man bellowed. Peter sighed. It was always a good voice to start the day with. At least it couldn’t get any worse than listening to JJ complain about his latest exploits. “For those who don’t know, raving lunatic Quentin Beck, AKA: Mysterio, escaped the Raft last week… and _what_ does he do with his newfound freedom? He teams up with Spider-man to steal a priceless artifact from ESU!”

Peter rolled his eyes. “Sure, Jameson. _That’s_ what happened.” He turned off the broadcast before the man could delve into his “proof” the he and Mysterio had teamed up. To Jameson, being in the same room as a villain meant you were partners with him. He hurried out of the house, wrapping his light jacket around his chest as the drizzle began. He had a half day at F.E.A.S.T. and then it was out on the patrol. Just because the people of New York were having their doubts about him, it didn’t mean he could just slack on his duties as Spider-man.

He got on the bus and sat down. There were very few people on it that early in the morning. He leaned his head on the window and closed his eyes in an attempt to get some sleep; but it didn’t come to him. His mind wouldn’t stop running over his fight with Beck. When the bus made it to the bus stop near MJ’s apartment, the drizzle had come to a light shower. MJ was waiting for him at the bus stop and she hopped on. “Hey, Pete,” she said as he grabbed her bag and put it on the overhead compartment. “You didn’t have to come, you know.”

“Yes, I did.” He smiled and she smiled back at him; but her smile quickly faded as she took a deeper look at his face. He probably looked like death.

“You haven’t slept… have you?”

He shrugged. “I had to fight Mysterio last night. Standard issue brawl. Nothing big.”

MJ blinked. “He’s out?” He nodded. “Any clue what he’s after?” He shrugged again and they sat down as the bus made its way through the city. He listened to her as she talked about all the things that she had to do once she got on the plane. She’d have to start writing almost immediately. He tried to focus, but his mind kept wandering back to his fight with Mysterio. There had been something off about the encounter. Beck was one for theatrics. Two snakes weren’t enough for him. And they had seemed so real. His shoulder still stung a little from where he had gotten hit. _Something_ hit him.

“Peter?”

He shook his head and dialed back into her conversation. “Y-yeah,” he said as he stood and grabbed her bags. They were already at the airport. Had he fallen asleep? That was likely.

She sighed and took her bag from him. He followed her out of the bus, hanging back. She was mad, and he didn’t know why. He hadn’t done anything wrong, had he? “What did I do?”

“Nothing,” she snapped, fumbling with her purse to pull out her passport and boarding pass. “You’re distracted.”

He sighed. “I was… just thinking about something Jameson said this morning.” Maybe letting her in the loop would help. She could help reason through whatever he was going through.

Her angry frown broke into an empathetic smile. “If you got hung up on every bad thing Jameson said about you, you’d never be happy.”

“I know.” He followed her through the airport, heading towards the boarding line. “But… something about that fight was weird. Beck was after some weird tablet on display at ESU; the Tablet of Order and Chaos.”

MJ bit her lip in thought. “I’ve never heard of that one.”

“Me neither… but I did some research. It’s supposed to grant powers to anyone who can decipher it.”

“Sounds right up his alley,” she said with a shrug. “What’s so weird about him wanting some ancient artifact that’s supposed to give him powers? Doesn’t he _want_ to be a real sorcerer?”

“I guess,” he muttered, distracted. He looked up at the departure times. MJ’s flight wasn’t leaving for another couple of hours, but security was always rough. “But one of the cameras was left filming.”

“So?”

“Beck is a stickler for perfection. He has to have every detail perfect or his illusions don’t work. The only reason he’s any level of a threat is because he focuses on the smallest, the most minute details and he owns a battlefield. If there was a camera filming our fight, he _wanted_ it on.”

She handed her passport and boarding pass to the check-in clerk and Peter waited patiently while she checked in her bag. When she finished, she turned to him. “I don’t know what to tell you. What benefit would that have?”

“I don’t know,” he grumbled.

They stopped at the security checkpoint. She looked down at her boarding pass. “I don’t have to go, you know,” she said quietly. “I’ll stay.”

“I want you to do what is best for your career. Don’t put your whole life on hold for me.” He leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek. “I love you.”

She hugged him with a laugh. “I love you, too. Don’t do anything stupid while I’m gone. And don’t…” she sighed. “Try not to worry, okay?”

“I’ll try.” He kissed her again and then waved her off. As he watched her go, his phone started ringing. He waved once more and picked it up, turning from the departures. “Hey, Miles. You’re up early.”

“Have you seen the news?” He sounded breathless.

“No,” Peter said as he started hurrying through the airport. “What’s up?”

“Find a TV… now!”

Peter walked fasted until he came across a shop in the airport that had a TV playing the morning broadcast. Footage of the fight at ESU was playing in a small screen over the report’s shoulder and she talked. There were no captions. “What the hell?” he asked Miles, then he waved down the person in the store. “Can you turn that up?”

The salesclerk groaned, but nodded, aiming the remote at the screen. The six o’clock news didn’t usually talk about the happenings of their friendly neighborhood Spider-man unless something big went down. “…happened at ESU late last night,” the reporter was saying. “What at first appeared to be a confrontation between Quentin Beck, known by his supervillain name, Mysterio, and Spider-man, quickly delves into a team effort.” The camera that had been still filming was fitted with night vision and the news had very good footage of him beating up ESU students and guards. “The students caught in the crosshair of the unlikely team-up were there late studying for midterms when they heard the commotion in the exhibit hall.”

The screen transitioned to a pre-recorded interview that couldn’t have been taken more than an hour or so ago. “I just heard something going on and me and a few friends decided to check it out. I mean, who doesn’t want to get a glimpse of Spider-man?”

The report went back to the station. “Most of the civilians walked away with minor injuries, but one, Jonathan Heck, was rushed to the hospital this morning with a broken rib.”

The clerk shook his head and a disappointed sigh. “Maybe he got sick of it,” he muttered. “Shame…”

“Miles… I’ll call you back…” He hung up without letting the young man respond. Instead, he tore off through the airport. Beck was always in control of a battlefield. He didn’t overlook things. He ran out of the airport and put his hand to his chest just as the bus came. He jumped on it, typing wildly on his phone. He needed someone in his corner… someone to vouch for him.

“Please… please pick up,” he whispered, bouncing his leg rapidly.

“Spider-man,” Yuri greeted. Her tone was harsh. “What do you want?”

“You have to tell them that you sent me to ESU last night!” Peter gasped quietly. There were other people on the bus, but they weren’t paying him any mind. He didn’t want to give them a reason to, though, so he lowered his voice. “They’re going to be after me for that kid! I thought I was fighting robots.”

“Spider-man… I didn’t send you to ESU last night. We didn’t know about the break in until one of the guards called 9-1-1.”

The color drained from Peter’s face and his hands became clammy. “No… _You_ called me last night.” He reached up and pulled the cord to tell the bus to stop when they came to the next stop. “I didn’t know there was a robbery going on! And _I_ called 9-1-1!” Someone looked over towards him and Peter smiled with a quick wave. The man lifted an eyebrow and shrugged.

“The 9-1-1 call was from one of the guards, not you,” Yuri said.

The bus stopped and Peter hurried off without looking at anyone. How was he supposed to go to work now? “Yuri… I’m not working with Mysterio! You _know_ I’m not!”

“We don’t know anything,” she said. Her tone had a shrug in it, and it infuriated him. Just because their relationship was down the drain, that didn’t mean he and her couldn’t work on this.

“He was after a Tablet and he got it.”

She sighed. “Well, what does that mean?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “But nothing good. It’s called the Tablet of Order and Chaos. Just… look into it for me, please.”

She groaned softly. “Spider-man… you are going to be on our Most Wanted list here soon. If they find out that I’m working with you—”

“Yuri, I don’t work with criminals!”

She scoffed. “You work with me, don’t you?”

He paused midstep. “That’s not fair, Yuri.”

She sighed. “I’ll… look into that tablet. It can’t be any weirder than when you asked me to look into the existence of demons.”

He took a long breath. “Thanks…” She hung up without acknowledging him and he got into the air after putting on his mask and removing his clothes. He needed a nap and a shower, but after finding out that people thought he and Mysterio were working together, he knew that sleep wasn’t something that was going to happen.

He landed on the roof of F.E.A.S.T. and hurried inside. “Rio!” he called as he stepped into the kitchen.

“Oh, Peter!” She smiled and hurried to him, giving him a half hug. “You’re here early.” She turned and handed him a knife, nodding to the carrots that needed to be cut. He put the utensil on the cutting board and washed his hands. “Have you talked to Miles this morning? He seemed upset when he called.”

“Yeah,” Peter grumbled. He wasn’t the only one. He started chopping the carrots. “He called me. There’s some rumors going around about Spider-man.”

Rio clicked her tongue. “It’s a shame,” she said, motioning to the TV monitor outside the kitchen. Another news station had picked up the story. “Jeff always thought Spider-man was a beacon for hope in this city. To think that he would go and do something like this.”

Peter tried not to react as she spoke. “Do you really think he’d do that?”

“I don’t want to,” Rio admitted. “But between what happened at the memorial service—”

“That wasn’t his fault!” Peter blurted out. He drove the knife deep into the wooden cutting board. Rio turned to him sharply. He quickly moved the knife out of the wood. “I’m sorry…”

“I didn’t say it was,” she clarified in a quiet voice, clearly freaked out by Peter’s outburst. Her eyes were trained on the knife and he gently placed it on the cutting board. “I’ve just wondered… where was he? My husband was there for saving his life, but he let him die. And then there’s May—” Peter backed away from the cutting board, holding his hands up. He didn’t need this right now. Rio cut off what she was saying as he turned and headed for the door. “Peter?”

He stopped and gripped the doorframe. “I don’t blame Spider-man for May’s death,” he snapped. His tone was more bitter than he had wanted. “The only person to blame for her death is Otto Octavius for releasing that damn Devil’s Breath on the city! Spider-man did everything in his power to save her… to save _everyone,_ and the city turns on him the moment things look grim!” He didn’t let her get a word out as he grabbed the coffee container and headed out into the main hall. He’d have to apologize for the outburst, but for now, he just needed to keep his mind busy. It wouldn’t do for him to be angry all the time. He picked up his phone, but MJ would be boarding the plane soon. She didn’t need this stress.

He walked to some of the people there and offered them coffee and listened to their stories of woe. Some of them had job interviews. Some wanted to know how he and MJ were doing. He answered in curt responses. If he delved into it, he was afraid that he wouldn’t stop until he finally told someone that he was Spider-man.

Then there was the issue of _who_ had called him. Obviously, Beck had set him up. “But why…?” he muttered as he walked away from one of the people. What was the point in making the city believe that they were working together? If he wanted to ruin Spider-man’s reputation, he wasn’t doing it as well as he probably could have given more time. He hadn’t tried to make Peter _kill_ any of the people he had been fighting. He shook his head and looked at the time. His phone went off and he looked at the message from MJ. He wrote her back quickly, saying he loved her and telling her to have a good trip. He felt like he should call her and tell her what was happening.

“If you do that, she’ll cancel the trip,” he muttered.

“Peter…?”

He turned to see Rio approaching him with a cup of coffee. He put down the pitcher and took the peace offering. “I’m sorry… about earlier,” he muttered.

“No, I’m sorry,” she said without making eye contact. “It was wrong of me to bring up May in that context. It’s just… when things go bad, we are always looking for a scapegoat and Spider-man…” She trailed off, looking for the right words.

“He’s easy to blame,” Peter finished. He knew that. Spider-man wasn’t a person to most of these people. He was just this force. Some people even believed he was multiple people. It was hard to blame a person for everything, but it was easy to blame an enigma without a face. Spider-man was the perfect scapegoat. “I get it. It’s just… I wanted to blame Spider-man for May’s death. I tried to. He got the cure… but he wasn’t fast enough to save May.” He swallowed the lump in his throat. “And now it looks like he’s working with some masked villain and it’s hard to see the city turn on him after he’s done so much.” He could bring up how Jeff believed in Spider-man enough to risk his life for him, but he didn’t want to invoke Jeff’s name in front of Rio.

He often wondered what it would be like for them to realize who they were talking to. Would it be harder for them to blame everything on him if they knew what his face looked like? He looked up at Rio to speak but something in her face gave him pause. Her eyes were wide and fixed on a spot behind him. He turned. The news was on the TV. He expected another hit piece on Spider-man, but he dropped his coffee cup. It splattered on the ground and it was the only sound he heard.

A plane at the airport had been taking off and before it got off the ground, the engines had exploded. His stomach churned as his phone felt heavy in his pocket. He recognized the flight number…

“Oh God…”


	4. Out of the Frying Pan

> Chapter Four: Out of the Frying Pan

Peter didn’t pause long enough to even assess the traffic situation as he ran out of F.E.A.S.T. and ripped his clothes off to reveal the suit beneath them. Rio hadn’t even had time to ask him if that was MJ’s plane. He didn’t wait for her to ask him where he was going. He had to get there…! 

He yanked himself into the air, pulling his mask over his face. His movements were erratic as he pulled through the air. He tried to convince himself that it was just coincidence… The old Parker Luck. This wasn’t some targeted attack. It couldn’t be. The only person who knew who wasn’t supposed to know was slowly losing all motor functions and couldn’t have visitors besides Peter Parker. If Otto had wanted to reveal his identity, he would have done it long before he was bedridden and dying.

A car horn blared in his face and he pulled up just short of being hit by the oncoming truck. His heart skipped several beats and his hands were shaking. “Okay, Pete… don’t swing while distracted,” he told himself, making a conscience effort to keep his arcs higher up and out of traffic. He needed something to keep from panicking further and he got on his phone. “Yuri! Tell me you have first responders at that plane crash.” He clenched his fists after she picked up. There was a chance she wouldn’t talk to him. Her job was already on the line, and if they knew she was talking to him, there’d be an investigation. 

It took her a moment to even start talking to him. He waited for the line to go dead. “That’s out of my district.” She said at length, before pausing and letting out a long sigh. “Newark is out of _your_ district as well. By the time you get there, the police and first responders will have already arrived.” He let out a soft sound that wasn’t the start of an argument. He didn’t know _what_ to say to her. How could he explain this without giving away personal information? She then seemed to realize something. “You know someone on that plane… don’t you?”

He pulled himself over a building and nearly slammed into the small structure on top of it. He dodged, but barreled through the air conditioner unit, shattering it on impact. He rolled with the impact as debris showered the rooftop.

“What was that?” She sounded worried. He cursed. That was the last thing he wanted. He didn’t want her worried about him… he wanted her to understand that this was important.

“Nothing,” Peter snapped, breathless. “I’ll call you back!”

“Spider-man,” she said quickly, cutting off his good-bye. “Do you know someone on that plane?” He didn’t answer. They weren’t close anymore. She had turned on him and had killed people in cold blood without going through due process. They weren’t friends and they weren’t partners… but he needed both right now.

“Yes,” he said reluctantly. “I know someone who was on that plane.”

She sighed. “Alright… I’ll get all the information I can.” There was another long pause. It reminded him of their time before the turf way with Hammerhead. “I’m sorry…” And then she hung up. He cursed when the line went dead. So many things between them and he couldn’t sort through them right now. All that mattered right now was getting to Newark and making sure that MJ was okay.

His phone rang again, and he picked it up, hoping that it was MJ calling to tell him that he had nothing to worry about. It wasn’t. “Hey, Pete,” Miles said. “I heard…” Peter’s stomach flipped. “Do you need me to come?”

He closed his eyes for a moment. Miles was eager; but he hadn’t seen the hardest part of this job. He hadn’t seen true carnage. Peter knew that Miles had experienced that when his father died, but Peter wasn’t eager to show Miles what being a hero really meant; that they couldn’t save everyone. _But I_ have _to save her!_

“No, Miles… you need to stay at school. But I’ll keep you updated, alright?”

“Sure…” He sounded disappointed and Peter couldn’t help but feel bad about it. He didn’t want to constantly keep disappointing Miles, but he also knew that the kid’s education was more important than their hero work. Being Spider-man wasn’t an endgame. It wasn’t something that Miles should aspire to. Peter wanted Miles to be a normal kid; not to have to juggle the superhero life with school life. He’d been down that path and he’d be remised to lead Miles down it too.

“Miles… I appreciate you. I’ll call you as soon as I know something.” The poor kid just wanted to help.

“Pete…” He paused and Peter could hear him clicking his teeth on the other end. Are you… okay?’

“I will be,” he said as he shot two webs to slingshot himself forward faster. Miles said his good-byes and hung up, leaving Peter with his own thoughts. He didn’t know what he’d do without her. If that plane crash had killed her… “No,” he snapped. “I can’t think like that! She’s fine… She _has_ to be fine…!” Because if she wasn’t, he wouldn’t be, and he may never be fine again.

The swing to Newark felt like an eternity and when he finally landed hard on the tarmac, there were already responders surrounding the burning plane while firefighters hurried towards the structure. Peter tore towards the wreckage. “Spider-man!” one of the officers called. “What are you doing here?” He didn’t even bother to stop and talk to the woman as he dashed past them and into the debris. “Mary Jane!” he shouted over the sound of flames. He heard coughing and he made a beeline towards the sound. He slid to his knees beside a young man holding a napkin to his face. Peter tried not to feel disappointed that he hadn’t found MJ as he grabbed the man’s hand and got him over his shoulder. “You’ll be okay, sir…” He tried not to look at the carnage of the plane. The more time he spent trying to save this man, the less time he had to find MJ.

He got the man to the exit and let the firefighters handle from there. No one bothered to question him anymore about why he was there. They were just thankful that he was. He tried to use his mask to scan for bodies, but heat vision wasn’t going to help him here. Crying caught his attention and he vaulted over some seats of the plane, landing beside a child holding onto the hand of a woman who wasn’t moving. Peter pushed down his nausea. That wouldn’t help anyone.

He reached down between the seats as gently as he could, but she screamed when he touched her. “N-no… It’s okay,” he said quietly. There wasn’t time for him to coddle the child. Her mother dead and she would be soon. It wouldn’t be much longer before this entire plane exploded. He picked up the child and gently as he could, he pried her hand from her mother’s arm. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, cradling the child in his arms.

As he passed on the terrified little girl to the waiting firefighters, a shout caught his attention. “Spider-man!” He spun, recognizing the voice.

“MJ!” he called back, hurrying back into the back of the plane. He tried not to see if anyone else needed him. _You can’t save everyone…_ he tried to reason as he tore down the aisle to where the shout had come from. He saw her lying on the ground, unmoving. He got to his knees and he hovered his hands over her, terrified of finding out if he was dead or alive. _You’re wasting time!_ He reached down, but before he could put his hand on her jacket, she rolled over.

And he screamed.

Half her face was burned to the bone, and blood and melted flesh fell from her cheek bone. He scrambled away on his hands and knees like a dog that had been kicked as she lifted a burned and destroyed hand towards him, grabbing at his arm. There was a visceral reaction to the reveal as his stomach lurched and vomit filled his throat. She collapsed on the ground with a moan before dragging herself across the ground towards him. “Y-you…” she gasped. Peter couldn’t look away, no matter how much he wanted to. “Too… late…”

“I’m sorry…” he whimpered. He moved slowly towards her. The heat of the plane fire didn’t mean anything anymore. It all faded away with the roar of fire in the background. Nothing else mattered. He had failed… he had been too late… _again._ He was always too late to save anyone! But this… 

When he reached towards her shoulder to help her, he yanked his hand back as if he had been bitten by a snake. His hand went _through_ her. There was no one there. It was fake… All of it. He spun around with enough time to see a glimpse of a cape before the entire plane exploded.

MJ stared in horror fun the ambulance as the explosion ripped the plane apart in an inferno. She put her hands to her mouth to stop the scream that was building in her lungs. She pushed away the paramedic and jumped from the back of the ambulance, ignoring the burns on her body. The man grabbed her and held her back as she struggled. He was always there to save everyone, but who was there to save _him?_

As she struggled against the paramedic, a police car drove onto the tarmac. Before it had even a chance to stop, a woman stepped out of the passenger side. MJ stopped struggling. She recognized the woman. “Officer Watanabe?” she whispered.

Yuri walked to the paramedic. “Where is he?” she asked.

He pointed to the burning wreckage. “He was in the plane when it went up.” His voice was laced with regret. “We saw it going downhill and we moved the civilians as far away as possible. No one had a way to tell him to get clear.”

Yuri turned to the plane as it burned. “Is someone going to go in there and get him?”

“We don’t want to risk the lives of our men. There could be another explosion waiting to hap—”

MJ didn’t wait to see what else the man had to say. She didn’t care about his explanations. Peter had made sacrifices for this city and she would be damned if she didn’t try to repay that in some capacity. While the paramedic was being chewed out by Yuri, MJ broke free completely and ran as quickly as she could towards the wreckage. Her leg was in pretty bad shape, but she didn’t care. Someone had to look out for him… _someone_ had to repay the debt this city owed him. The heat as she neared the plane was almost unbearable. This was stupid. How did he look at a burning building and just jump inside without hesitating?

_ He has powers…  _ she thought. She clenched her fists. Well, now he needed someone willing to get in there and save him. She ran into the fire, holding her jacket over her mouth. “Spider-man!” she called. No answer. “Peter!” Still nothing. She went further into the plane as sweat poured from every pore on her body.

A splash of bright red caught her attention and she hurried towards it. He was lying on the ground, gripping something in one hand despite being barely conscious. MJ bent down and put her hands on his back. “Not… real…” Peter grumbled. She could barely hear him over the sound of the fire. She gently managed to get him on his feet, and he fell against her. “I’m sorry…”

She patted his chest lightly and walked as quickly as she could towards the opening. The structure was collapsing in on itself. Her legs screamed in protest as Peter put more weight on her. His rambling was getting more incoherent and slurred as they walked. Her knees buckled and she went down hard on one knee but managed to stay upright. She held back a scream of pain as the flames licked at her legs. Peter groaned and said something that she couldn’t make out as she stood them both back up, ignoring the near crippling pain in her legs. Before she could move forward again, Yuri ran into the wreckage and took him without asking questions. MJ followed her out of the plane, and they ran down the tarmac in an effort to get away from the wreckage before the plane exploded again, sending a shockwave that sent all three of them to the hot asphalt.

MJ groaned and rolled onto her back, staring up at the sky as smoke billowed above her. Yuri recovered before she did, and she started shouting for paramedics. MJ managed to get to a sitting position to see Peter sprawled and bleeding on the ground. His costume hadn’t protected him from the flames at al. Several spots had been burned and melted through and the exposed flesh was covered in burns, oozing blood and other liquids. MJ got to her knees beside and grabbed his hand to let him know that she was there.

“I…” he gasped.

“You hush,” Yuri snapped. She turned to MJ. “Watch him. I’ll get help.”

MJ watched Yuri go before turning back to Peter. She moved his mask off his mouth to help him breathe and cupped his cheek in her hand. “Hey…” she whispered.

“I… wasn’t fast enough…” he slurred, shaking his head in confusion. “Couldn’t… save her…”

“Shh…” She tried to calm him, but now that they were out of the flames, he was regaining some strength; enough to start becoming agitated. He shifted on the ground, becoming antsy. 

“Never fast enough…”

“I’m right here, Pete,” she said quietly. 

He turned to her and for a moment, it seemed like his disorientation was settling down. “I’m sorry…”

She smiled and laughed through the tears that were falling from her eyes. “It’s okay,” she tried to assure him. He shook his head. “Peter…?”

“I’m sorry…!” he said again, more forcefully this time. Now he was struggling against unseen restraints. MJ grabbed his hand and squeezed tightly. 

“H-hey…! It’s okay!”

“It’s not okay!” he shouted with as much force as she imagined he could muster. “It’s not…!” His agitated struggling had made the bleeding stronger. Something had happened to him in there and she didn’t know how to help him. Before she could question him further, the paramedics were at his side. She backed away to give them enough room, and silently prayed for Peter to pass out. 

MJ sat in the waiting room of the hospital while the people inside worked to bandage Peter up. Yuri had taken care of making sure that his identity stayed secret. The only people in the room were the ones who needed to be in there; no more, no less. “MJ!” 

She and Yuri both looked up as a young kid in a black suit with red webbing hurried down the hall. She bit her lip. It made sense that Miles would come while dressed in his hero suit. It wouldn’t take long for people to figure out who Peter was if Miles, the son of the hero police officer, showed up. Though he could play it off. She stood and crossed the room to Miles. “Is he…?”

“He’ll be fine,” Yuri said. She was more clinical about it than MJ was. “He has several burns, but he’ll be fine… Physically,” she added quietly. 

“Physically?” Miles asked. MJ nodded. Peter had spent the entire trip to the hospital mumbling about something that they couldn’t pinpoint. No one knew what he was talking about, and he wasn’t making any sense. 

MJ looked to Yuri and she sighed, catching MJ’s meaning. She didn’t say a word as she walked away, leaving MJ and Miles alone. He sat next to her. “Is he okay?”

She sighed, clenching her fists. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “Something happened to him in that plane, but no one can figure out what it was.” She ran her hands through her hair. She knew what it was. She had seen this before. Several years ago, everyone had thought that both Peter Parker and Spider-man were going insane. Mysterio had done a number on Peter’s psyche before he learned how to fight the illusionist. “I’ve seen this,” she muttered. “There’s a man who fought Spider-man once before. He’s an illusionist.”

“Quentin Beck,” Miles said with a nod. “I was following Spider-man’s career when that all happened. I thought he wasn’t much of a threat because he doesn’t have powers.”

“He didn’t need powers,” MJ said. “But, he wasn’t a threat once Spider-man learned that the illusions didn’t set off his Spider Sense.”

Miles looked towards where Yuri had disappeared. “And you think this is Beck?” he asked.

She nodded. “It has to be… the only problem is…”

“He shouldn’t have reacted like that,” Miles finished. She smiled. The kid was smart and quick on the uptake. “If he knows whatever he saw is fake, it shouldn’t have caused such a reaction.” 

MJ sighed. Now she had to bring up the other, more ridiculous part of this. “Maybe… it _was_ real,” she grumbled. Miles turned to her sharply, clearly not taking her words to heart very well. “Last night, Mysterio managed to get his hands on something called The Tablet of Order and Chaos.”

“And you think that this tablet is the reason that he’s freaking out?”

She chewed the inside of her cheek slowly, keeping her hands clasped. The fact that she was even suggesting this was ridiculous. Peter wasn’t one who would just have a freak out like that. _Something_ had to have shaken him to his core. “I think there’s a reason Beck went after that tablet…”


	5. Truth in Lies

> Chapter Five: Truth in Lies

Spider-man wasn’t cleared for release, but Miles knew that wouldn’t stop him from doing whatever he wanted. The last time he had been hospitalized, he had run off with several broken bones. A few burns weren’t going to slow him down; even if it should. He crouched, watching the window as Peter crawled through it, true to fashion. “Called it…” he muttered, though he had been hoping he would be wrong about this one. He waited while Peter climbed to the roof before he jumped over there to meet him. He crossed his arms and tapped his foot, looking up at Peter. “MJ thought you’d escape,” he said, shaking his head. Peter shrugged. “You’re recovering from burns, Pete. You need to rest.”

He shook his head. “I can’t rest, Kid… I need to find Beck, figure out what he plans on doing, and I need to stop him.” He began pacing and Miles watched him silently. MJ was smart to be worried about him. The way he moved was off. He was stiff and jumpy; and not all of that could be explained by his burns. “I was hoping to never face Beck again… and I was hoping _you’d_ never deal with him.” He walked to the lip of the building and crouched. Miles followed him quietly, sneaking towards him as if he were afraid that if he made sudden movements, Peter would leap and then flee.

“What happened last time you faced him?” he asked carefully as he vaulted over to lip to sit with his legs swinging over the edge. Maybe bringing up the other time he had fought this foe would help him work through it. Sometimes talking about the issue with another head brought different results. Miles wasn’t fully convinced that Beck had suddenly gained magical powers. He hadn’t been in the business long enough to start believing anything could happen… But what he _did_ know was that Peter was spooked; and that was important. Peter was a seasoned superhero. Not much shook him. To see him this shaken was disconcerting, to say the least.

He looked at the skyline. Miles couldn’t see his face, but he imagined that his expression was longing and sad. “I fought him early in my career,” he whispered. Miles could barely hear him over the wind. “He wasn’t one of the first… maybe a few years down the road. At first, I thought he was a decent guy. He seemed that way, at least. He was helpful and smart… And then he snapped once he thought he had gotten all he wanted out of me.” Miles could just imagine Peter taking a swig of some drink. This was a conversation for a bar, not the rooftop of the hospital.

“Afterward, he tried to kill me in… elaborate ways. It was one of the worst weeks of my life. Luckily, he didn’t know who I was, so the torment came from my insecurities of being a hero that I had told him about. I spent days second guessing everything… and then second guessing my second guess. I didn’t sleep for weeks afterward. I looked behind me for months; even after I knew he was in prison.” Peter sighed. “The bad thing is… he’s not the most dangerous foe I’ve faced. But, if he’s managed to get himself true power, he might very well be.”

Miles didn’t know what to say to that, so he said nothing for a few minutes. He had known that being Spider-man was a difficult and dangerous job, but he hadn’t known it was be so psychologically taxing.

Peter continued in Miles’ silence. “I was hoping you would never have to face Mysterio. I still don’t want you to… And that’s why I think you need to sit this one out. Deal with the small things while I deal with Beck.”

He turned to his mentor sharply. That was a terrible idea. “Pete… you can’t be thinking about taking this guy down on your own.”

“I…” Peter stood on the lip of the building and stared out at the city. “This is bigger than just you and me now… I… think he knows who I am.”

Miles tried not to react, but he failed in his stoicism. Peter had told him that their identities were the most important thing they had to protect because if it ever got out, it would not only be their death, but the death of everyone they ever cared about. “How do you know?”

“He went after MJ… specifically MJ. The illusion he showed me in the plane… it wasn’t just a random victim; it was her.” He clenched his fists. “Come on… we need to go to the Raft.” He didn’t wait for Miles to protest. He just jumped off the building and Miles followed quickly after. He didn’t know why they were going to the Raft, but there had to be a reason for it.

He swung behind Peter, following him through the streets. He still wasn’t as used to it as Peter was, but he was getting better. Peter didn’t give him any mercy tonight, though, and Miles struggled to keep up. Many times, he lost sight of Peter, but he knew where they were going. The question was… why? The villain they were hunting wasn’t in the Raft. What, or who, was there that they needed?

When they got to the Raft, Peter still said nothing to him. Miles tried not to look around like he was a tourist. He had never been to the prison. Peter had told him that was something he wasn’t ready for; but now it seemed that Spider-man didn’t care. He didn’t stop as he walked up to the guards and pushed his way through. Miles kept close by just in case the guards decided to think that he wasn’t with the superhero that was barging in. Kid Arachnid, as he had started going by, hadn’t gained as much name recognition in the 8 or so months he had been an active superhero. He was mostly just known as Spider-man’s sidekick. He was still too green to be bothered by that, though.

None of the guards bothered to question why they were there, and Miles could only hope that they didn’t notice that Peter was limping slightly. Any sign of weakness would be used against them if the guards decided that they weren’t supposed to be there. Peter led him to the medical ward and he finally stopped in front of a desk. “I need to see Doctor Octavius,” he said firmly.

The nurse at the desk leading to the medical bay looked up from his desk, cocking his head. “Spider-man? Is there a reason you want to see him?”

“I need to ask him something.” Peter’s tone was firm and indicated that he wouldn’t take “no” for an answer.

The nurse nodded slowly and pressed a button, that was followed by a loud buzz. Peter nodded and headed for the door and Miles, after thanking the nurse kindly, hurried after him. “What are we doing here?” he asked finally.

Peter didn’t answer. Instead, he walked to the isolation chamber where the doctor was being held. On one hand, Miles wanted to stay back. He didn’t know Otto Octavius and he didn’t want to be a part of this. On the other hand, he wanted to know everything about what was going on. If they were going to beat Beck, he needed all the information he could get. He stepped forward behind Peter and peered into the chamber. He had to fight to hold back a shocked gasp.

The man in the chamber was nearly a skeleton. His skin lay over his bones loosely and each breath looked painful. Miles forced himself not to look away. He wanted this, and he needed to face it.

Peter didn’t seem to care about Otto’s state. He put his hands on the glass. “Who did you tell, Otto?”

The man turned his head slowly to Peter. A weak smile played on his lips. “No…one…” he whispered.

“Don’t give me that,” Peter snapped. “Quentin Beck. You know him?”

“Everyone does, Spider-man.”

Peter clenched his fists. His foot twitching and Miles could see that he was holding back his temper. “Telling people who I am isn’t just hurting me, Otto. You can do whatever you damn want with me, but you need to leave the people in my life out of this!” Miles flinched slightly. Otto knew who Peter was? It made sense. The two had worked together. Peter didn’t like talking about it, but on late night stakeouts, he had managed to get bits and pieces of what had happened between Peter Parker and Otto Octavius.

_ “You _ brought them into this,” Otto gasped. Despite the pain and weakness in his voice, there was humor there as well. “I didn’t start this… But I _will_ end it.”

“No, you did start this,” Peter returned, clenching his fists over the glass. He leaned heavily on the pod and for a moment, Miles feared that Peter was going to break through and force Otto to talk. Instead, he rocked back on his heels with a heated huff. “I’m not having this argument. You know what you did.”

Otto said nothing, and Miles waited for Peter to continue, but neither did. He didn’t want to get into the middle of this. It felt like this was a personal moment and he shouldn’t be there. Peter shook his head and hit the glass angrily before turning and walking towards the door. “Did Beck… find the tablet?” Peter froze. His whole body tensed, but he said nothing in response. “He did, didn’t he?” He laughed, and that laugh fell into a loud cough. “Let the games… begin…!”

By the time Peter had taken Miles home, he was thoroughly shaken. His conversation with Otto hadn’t done anything to calm his nerves. In fact, it had only done to make things worse. He landed in his apartment and ripped off his mask. Everything hurt. They had all been right. He was exhausted and his body was close to giving out. During the patrol, he had tried to play off every missed step and every break he had to take as just a normal part of the evening. The last thing he wanted was to worry Miles. If he got worried, then he’d call MJ, and then she would worry, and then she’d call him, and then neither one of them would sleep.

He fell on his bed and stared up at the ceiling, but MJ’s charred and melting face awaited him every time he closed his eyes. Being unconscious at the hospital had been a blessing; but it wasn’t much of a rest. “He doesn’t have powers,” he mumbled. “He can’t have powers… That stupid tablet; it’s just a piece of rock.” The problem wasn’t the tablet and whatever magical ability it had or didn’t have. The real problem was that Otto had told him his name, and now they were working together. “But to what end?” he asked the ceiling fan. It didn’t make sense. Their whole alliance was worthless. Otto couldn’t promise Beck anything. He was dying, and Beck’s plan seemed to be for the long haul. He didn’t seem too concerned with killing Peter. If he wanted him dead, the plane would have been a good time and place to get that done. He was like a cat playing with his prey. Even if he suddenly had powers, he wasn’t using them for much other than to play stupid head games. 

“And for crashing a plane,” he grumbled, rolling over. Those deaths were still his fault. Beck had done it to get to him, and those people died because of a stupid war that they weren’t a part of. He rolled over onto his side and closed his eyes, trying to find some semblance of peace. He couldn’t do this with no sleep, and he was already pushing a day or two without a good night’s sleep.

But sleep eluded him. The sun came up as he stared at the door, half expecting Beck to waltz through it at any moment. When his alarm alerted him of his designated waking time, he rolled out of the bed and stumbled to the shower. His mind hadn’t stopped the entire time. It went over everything that had happened, forcing him to replay everything between him and Ock, and now the plane crash and Beck’s involvement. He didn’t need Beck’s illusions to mentally destroy him; he’d take care of that himself. 

He turned on the shower and peeled off his suit while he waited for the water to heat up. He winced as he examined himself in the mirror. He had burns covering his body. Luckily, they seemed to be healing nicely, but he knew that if he kept this up, they’d get infected. 

He stepped into the shower and held back a shout of pain as the hot water hit his burnt flesh. He clenched his fists and leaned on the wall, hitting it gently as he moaned softly in pain. “I need to figure this out…” he whispered through clenched teeth. 

A knock on the door made him jump. The person didn’t wait for him to get out of the shower and instead came into the apartment and into the bathroom. “Peter?”

He turned off the shower and poked his head out of the curtain. “Hey, MJ…” He didn’t want her to see him like this. Luckily, she had been spared most of the brunt of the attack. Beck didn’t want her dead… yet. 

She smiled softly at him. There was that look again; that worried, “you can’t do this on your own” look. “How are you?”

He pulled the curtain and grabbed a towel. “I’m fine.” He very carefully began to dry his skin, trying not to make any wincing sounds as he did so. “You didn’t need to come over.”

“Yes, I did,” she said. Her tone was curt and harsh. He closed his eyes. She wanted to help him, and she was angry that he was underplaying what had happened. 

Peter sighed and wrapped the towel around his lower body before stepping out of the shower. She gasped lightly, but he tried to ignore her as he moved to the sink. He didn’t want her here. The closer she got to this, the worst it was going to be. “You should go to work.”

“Being in a plane crash kind of excuses me from work for a few days,” she snapped as he tried to push past her to get to his cloths. She grabbed his arm and he winced as she squeezed his arm. “Peter… I know what happened the last time you faced him.”

“And it won’t happen again,” he insisted. He wanted to pull his arm free, but he also didn’t want to hurt his arm further. “I swear. I know Beck’s tricks.”

“The tablet…”

He pulled away and she released him without a fight. Thankfully, she didn’t want to hurt him anymore than he wanted to be hurt. “It’s nothing; a fairytale. Beck is an illusionist and that’s all he’ll ever be.” He walked to the closet and pulled out one of his extra suits. MJ watched him with an angry gaze. She didn’t like that he was planning on going out there. Unlike her, however, no one else knew that he had been involved in that explosion. He couldn’t afford to lose a day of work; for either job. He worked to get the suit on, trying to prevent himself from wincing as he did. “He won’t win, MJ. I just… wish I knew why he was doing this. I think he’s teamed up with Otto Octavius, but I don’t know why. He’s not usually one to get involved with other people. He’s a loner.” 

MJ sighed and walked over to him to help him get the suit on. He was grateful, but he knew that she didn’t approve of this. “What do you need me to do?”

“I need you to stay out of this,” he said. He knew that she wouldn’t accept that, but she didn’t know the danger she was in. Only he knew, and if that meant pushing her away, then so be it. The closer she got to this, the more danger she was in. 

When he turned to look at her, she was staring at him angrily. He backed away and turned his back to her as he grabbed clothes to wear over the suit. “We’ve been over this, Peter,” she scolded, keeping her tone measured. He shook his head. She didn’t know. “You said you wouldn’t treat me with kid gloves anymore!” She slammed her hand on the nightstand. “Damn it, Peter!”

He buttoned up his shirt without looking back at her. “MJ… Beck is…”

“No more dangerous than Fisk, or Tombstone, or Martin Li!” she argued, cutting him off.

He fumbled with the button on the shirt, struggling to get his hands to work. How could he tell her without making her think that he thought she was weak and helpless? The problem was that as much as she hated to admit it, she _was_ helpless when it came to things like this. She couldn’t help him fight Beck. 

“Why is Mysterio any different?” she demanded. His hands shook harder. He couldn’t get this button together. Angrily, he ripped it off and discarded it on the floor. 

“I _saw_ you die,” he gasped, clenching his shaking fists. Luckily, he had only broken the top button, so that meant the shirt wasn’t ruined. He hardly had enough money to afford another good shirt. “Beck… the illusion in the plane… You were burned and dying… And I could _do_ anything.” He swallowed a lump in his throat and shook his head. “I can’t… I can’t go through that… not for real.” 

How could he make her understand that he needed her to be safe? She was his rock, and with Aunt May gone, she sometimes felt like all he had left. She crossed the room to him and gently started buttoning the rest of his shirt. “It won’t happen…” she promised. It wasn’t one she could keep. 

He shook his head, turning away from her. “MJ… He _knows_ ,” he whispered. She cocked her head. 

“Knows?”

He closed his eyes. If he told her, she would never be able to sleep. She’d spend all her time worrying about him just as he worried about her. She would never be able to relax. “He knows my name…”


	6. How to Save a Life

> Chapter Six: How To Save of Life

When he finally got MJ to leave, Peter slipped out the window and fired a web. He knew that he needed to call F.E.A.S.T. and make sure they knew he was taking the day off. He couldn’t afford to take the day, but the longer he let Beck run around unhinged, the worst this was going to get. Today was Saturday and he was supposed to take Miles out on patrol, but he would rather not take the kid to where he was going. Miles was green and didn’t know how to handle himself in tougher situations. Peter felt bad about ghosting him, and he felt bad about making MJ worry, but he had to get this done and it had to be done quickly.

As he pulled himself through the air, his phone rang. “Hey,” he greeted.

“Peter… I’m sorry about this morning,” MJ said.

“Don’t worry about it,” he assured her. The last thing he wanted was for her to feel guilty about anything. “You’re right. I know I shouldn’t be treating you like you’re helpless… and it’s not that I think you’re helpless.” He sighed and landed on a rooftop with a soft grunt. “It’s that I think _I’m_ helpless.”

She was quiet for a moment and he took that time to crouch on the building, staring down at his destination. “I get that, Peter, but…”

“Don’t say you don’t need me to protect you,” he said, cutting her off. “I know you aren’t a child and I can’t treat you with kid gloves; but I also know that you don’t have powers and you _are_ in danger because of me.”

She released a long breath in a soft hiss. He waited for her to mull over his words. “You’re right,” she said at length. “But what you aren’t right about is the fact that you think you need to do this alone. You don’t.”

He sighed. “I know.” Maybe it would be better if he had people in his corner. They could help ground him to reality in the inevitable fight between him and Beck. “For now, though, I’ll call you back.”

“Where are you?”

He was reluctant to tell her. If she knew, she would worry even further. “I’m at the Bar With No Name,” he admitted. That got the expected reaction. She gasped audibly. “I know, I know… _But_ it’s not so bad. There’s no fighting allowed in there, and all their guns are taken away. Besides. It’s…” he trailed off and sighed. “It’s not that bad,” he tried to assure her. “I’ll call you back when I’m done, alright?”

She huffed. “You better.”

“And _you_ need to rest. You were in a plane crash.” He hung up before she had a chance to tell him that he had been in an explosion at the same crash. He closed his eyes. He had been in the bar a handful of times. They didn’t like it when he was there, but they tolerated him because fighting him would be against the rules. It always humored him to know that laws didn’t stop these people from doing crimes, but the rules of their not-so-secret hideout kept them all from piling onto him and killing him without mercy.

He waited for a couple of low-level thugs to enter before he jumped down and headed for the door, stopping it from closing and slipping inside. Once in, he hung back while the thugs handed over their guns and knives. Now would be the moment of truth. It was hit or miss about whether or not they’d let him in. Sometimes they did. Sometimes they told him to walk away.

He stood up straighter and walked towards the guard station. “Morning,” he greeted.

The young guard behind the cage didn’t even look at him. “Guns, knives and any other weapons on the counter.”

He smiled. “Yeah, I don’t have any of those.”

The guard laughed. “Yeah right, s---” he froze as he looked up to see who he was talking to. He stammered.

“Yes, it’s me. Your Friendly Neighborhood Spider-man. I need to talk to some guys inside. Help a spider out?”

“Boss!” the young guard called. Peter smiled. This kid was new here, it seemed. He leaned forward and crossed his arms on the counter.

It took a few moments for a big muscular man to come into the guard booth. He laughed. “Well, well,” he said with good humor in his voice. It didn’t seem forced. “You’ve got a lot of nerve coming here, Spider.” He shrugged. “I heard you got beat up pretty bad last night.” Peter nodded slowly. He didn’t want to admit that, but this guy was clearly not going to let him in without some riffing. “Beck isn’t here, Spider-man.”

“I’m not here to see Beck,” he said. In truth, he was half hoping the man _would_ be there. Meeting Beck on neutral ground would have been beneficial.

The man’s smile faltered a little. He stepped back. “Whatever, Spider. It’s your funeral. Just don’t make a mess.”

Peter nodded and stepped into the main area. The realization that he was there moved slowly. People went about their business until he got to the bar and sat down. The bartender gasped as he ordered a drink. If he was going to be there, he needed to at least try to blend in. Behind him, the area was slowly going quiet. His presence was becoming known.

The bartender handed him the drink and he took it before turning around on the stool to look at the now silent room. He raised the glass. “Gentlemen.” Their hostility was palpable. He was taking notes on a few of the criminals that he needed to get behind bars ASAP; but now wasn’t the time. He liked having the trust of this bar. He turned back to the bar and put the drink back down. It wasn’t like he could drink without removing his mask anyway.

He gasped slightly as someone laid their arm over his shoulders. He didn’t like the fact that he couldn’t rely on Spider sense here. Most of these people wouldn’t attack him even if he was a good target in this bar. “Hey, Spider! What brings you to mingle with the dogs?” he asked.

Peter recognized the voice. Mac Gargan. “Morning, Mac… a bit too early for you to be drinking.”

“You’re the one with the beer, kid,” he said with a laugh. “You never know who spiked that drink. They say no fighting. Killing is still on the table.”

Peter passed the drink to the man. This wasn’t who he wanted to talk to. He’d rather be talking to any one of his other villains than this creep. “Can’t drink. Mask and all.”

Gargan took the glass and downed half of it in one massive swig. Peter tried not to react to it. At least that meant one of two things; it wasn’t poisoned, or Mac didn’t care if it was. Either way, he didn’t need it. Gargan put the half full drink on the bar hard enough that Peter was almost worried he had cracked the glass. “So, seriously, what brings you here?”

He looked down at his hands. “I need fleas,” he said.

“I’ll bet. With the way Mysterio wiped the floor with you.”

Peter grimaced. “So, when you guys fight me and manage to escape, do you come here and tell the tale? Like, is there a “I Fought Spider-man and Lived” AA meeting on Sundays?”

Gargan laughed. “Of course!” His voice was boisterous, and Peter was sure that beer wasn’t his first for the day. “Whenever one of us manages to get the best of you, we come here and compare notes.” He took another long swig of the drink, finishing it with a loud gulp. Peter nodded to the bartender, ordering a second for his loose-lipped friend. Gargan was appreciative. “So, you want information on Beck?” Peter nodded. How much was Gargan willing to tell him? Were two beers enough to buy him off? “He was here,” he said with a shrug. “Came in all victorious claiming he killed you. No one believed him, of course, but he assured us that he had the foolproof way to destroy you.” Gargan laughed. “Yeah, I heard _that_ before!”

“So have I,” Peter grumbled. “And if I had a dollar for every time one of you guys said that, I could afford to pay rent this month.”

Gargan studied him for a moment as if he were trying to figure out if Peter was serious or joking. Peter kept his face neutral despite the mask. After that moment passed, the man laughed and shook his head. “Always cracking jokes.” He took a smaller swig of the beer. “I remember when someone _else_ said he had the foolproof way to beat you.” He put the glass down heavily. “Worked out well for him, didn’t it? Now he’s dying in the Raft and I’m out here sharing a beer with the damned Spider like we’re war buddies.”

Peter tried not to show anything in his body movement. “Otto?”

Gargan nodded. “Doctor Otto Octavius. You know, he tried to recruit me again before I broke out. Told him I was better off going solo. You know that Rhino nearly killed me when you locked us in that shipping crate together.”

“Occupational hazard,” Peter grumbled.

“Damn right. But I guess Doc Ock got what he needed with Beck. Those two are rather cozy if I say so myself.”

Peter didn’t know if he should push his luck. Gargan was being loose with his information and if Peter tried to push the conversation, he might not be so willing. He decided to risk it. “What kind of stuff is Otto planning?” he asked with a shrug. He tried to make it nonchalant; like he was joking that Gargan would even consider telling him.

“Hell if I know,” he said with a soft laugh. “Guy was pretty tightlipped when I told him where he could shove his offer. But man, he _hates_ you. I mean, we all hate you, but something about the way he talks about killing you… It’s personal.”

“I bet it is,” Peter whispered. This was becoming more and more personal as the days went on. Otto was dying. There was no endgame for him. And getting Beck _and_ Gargan involved. This was getting worse by the minute. He stood and placed a twenty on the bar. That was his food money for the week, but it was worth it. Gargan had been far more helpful than Peter had been expecting. “Thanks.”

Gargan nodded. He raised his glass. “I’ll see you out there, Spider-man. I look forward to putting some poison in your veins.”

“And I look forward to punching you in the jaw.” He turned to leave and nearly ran into Quentin Beck as he turned. Spider sense didn’t warn him because none of these people were allowed to hurt him in the bar.

“Hello, Spider-man.”

“Beck,” Peter said with a nod. He tried to duck away, but Beck grabbed his shoulder.

“Leaving so soon?”

“I got what I needed,” Peter answered.

Beck turned to Gargan. “What did you tell him?”

He shrugged. “Who knows? Well, I guess me and the Spider know, but that’s for us to know and you to find out.”

Beck smiled. “I suppose.” He turned his attention back to Peter. “Where’s your little friend, Kid Arachnid?”

“Home,” Peter grumbled. He was sure that Beck didn’t know who Miles was.

He nodded. “Sounds reasonable.” He patted Peter’s shoulder. “Are you going home?” Peter’s spine stiffened. It wasn’t only dangerous if Beck knew who he was, it was dangerous if the people in this room knew that Beck knew. They might break some rules to get that out of him.

“Patrol,” Peter grumbled. He’d never go home again if the possibility of Beck waiting for him was there. He pushed passed the man and this time he was allowed, but he stopped before getting too far. “The Tablet,” he muttered. This may be his only chance to talk to Beck outside of battle. No Powers… that was a rule here. Illusions were his powers.

“It’s safe,” Beck assured him. It was of no assurance. “Why so concerned?”

Peter wanted to laugh. “I’m not. I don’t believe in magic.”

Peter could hear the smile in Beck’s voice when he spoke. “You will, Spider-man… I’ll make sure of it.”

By the time night fell on the city, Miles was up and running through the streets while Peter kept to the rooftops. Tonight was a fairly normal night; one that Miles wasn’t expecting to have since this whole mess with Mysterio and Otto started. He had thought Peter would keep insisting that he stay out of things. Miles had been genuinely surprised when Pete showed up at his window and told him they were patrolling. His mom was working the nightshift at F.E.A.S.T. and he had snuck out of the house without a problem.

“On your left, next alleyway,” Peter said to him through their commlinks. “There’s a mugging. Remember…”

“Go for the guns first,” Miles finished.

Peter laughed. “Guess today’s not your first day, huh?” He sighed. “Man, I feel old.”

“You are.” Miles cut the link. He knew Peter wasn’t far and would step in if Miles needed help; but his goal was to make sure Peter didn’t need to step in. He took a deep breath to calm his nerves as he came up to the corner leading into the alleyway. He heard a loud man demanding money while a younger man echoed everything he was saying.

Miles closed his eyes and allowed his camouflage to fall into place. He clenched his fists as he stepped into the alley. He thought that he could feel Peter’s eyes glaring down at him from where he was. When he could see the men and their victim, he assessed the situation. One of the two men was clearly the one in charge. The second one was younger and looked to be an apprentice or even a younger brother. He looked almost as scared as the woman they had cornered.

The younger man didn’t have a gun on him, but he did have a knife. The older man had his gun aimed at the woman’s head as he shouted at her to hand over her purse.

Miles bit his lip, trying to come up with a witty quip. Peter had said it helped break tension. He shook his head. That didn’t matter. Substance over style, right? If he startled the man, a misfire would happen. Peter had told him about one of his first muggings. He had just jumped into action and the mugger had freaked out. He had fired the gun in his hands and the victim was shot. Luckily, Peter told him, he had survived since the bullet entered his leg, but he had learned that when stopping a mugging, _always_ go for the gun first. 

He wasn’t feeling confident enough t fire a web over the muzzle of the gun, so he went for the man’s wrist while camouflaged. He grabbed the hand holding the gun and aimed it upwards. As predicted, the startled man gasped and misfired the weapon. The shock of the gun going off startled Miles as well and he released the man’s hand as he stumbled back. 

During the confusion, the younger man had grabbed his own gun and aimed it at Miles. His hands were shaking. 

“I’m coming in,” Peter said in his ear. He could hear the worry in his mentor’s tone. Miles shook his head and held up both his hands. 

“Not yet…” he whispered.

“Kid…!” 

He ignored Peter. If he wanted to come down, he could, but Miles was hoping that Peter trusted him enough to let him have this one. The woman had fled by now. Miles looked at the young man aiming the gun at his belly. “A little higher if you want to aim to kill,” Miles instructed. The man’s brother was tense. “Come on, man. Robbing people for their cash? There are safer ways to earn money.”

The younger brother laughed nervously. “Yeah. Try being an ex-con and then get a job! Not all of us can dress up in skintight spandex and beat up poor people for a living.” 

It was Miles’ turn to laugh. “You think I get paid to do this?” he asked. “My only payment for this job is a gun aimed at my face.” The man’s eyes fell on the weapon in his hands and he lowered it, aiming it at Miles’ legs. Now he had a better chance of dodging the bullet. “You can still walk away from this.”

“That’s easy for you to say!” the older one snapped. “I bet you do this because it’s fun! Makes you feel all high and mighty!” He gestured to Miles. “Using these powers is a big power trip, ain’t it?”

Miles smiled softly. “It’s terrifying,” he admitted. “I risk my life out here for strangers.”

He scoffed. “What for?”

Miles shrugged. “Because it’s the right thing to do. Someone’s gotta do it, so why not the people with the power _to_ do it?” 

“You’re crazy, kid.” 

He nodded. “I know.” 

The younger brother lowered the gun completely. “He’s right, though,” he muttered.

“What?” his brother snapped. 

“He’s one of the only guys who talked to us instead of just starting to punch. There’s so much more we could be doing…” He looked to Miles. “Are we… free to go?” 

Miles bit his lip. “You should probably wait here. The police are already on their way.”

“Screw that!” the older brother said firmly. 

Miles held his ground. “The first step in changing your life is admitting that something is wrong.”

The younger brother leaned against the wall, clearly ready to stand there until the police got there. The older brother cursed under his breath and stood around until the police showed up. After Miles made sure that the officers were treating the two men with respect, he started up the walls. He knew one of the men that had showed up. It was nice to see him again.

Once he got to the top of the building, he sat beside Peter as they watched the two officers talk with the two brothers. “You did a good thing down there,” Peter said at length. 

“It was nothing,” Miles said, trying to brush off what he had done.

Peter shook his head. “It wasn’t,” he insisted. “Sometimes when you’ve been doing this job for years, you forget about the individuals. It’s about protecting the city, and in doing that, you can sometimes forget that the criminals need protection, too. No one just decides one day to become a criminal… or a monster,” he added under his breath. Miles wasn’t sure he was supposed to hear that last part. 

“You’re thinking about Otto?”

He nodded. “We get so wrapped up in our own problems that we can’t see what’s right in front of us. We can’t see when people are falling too far deep.” He stood and Miles didn’t know how he was supposed to react to that. Did Peter want him to say anything? _Could_ he say anything? He had never gone through something like that. He prayed he would never have to. It tore Peter apart to even think about what had happened between him and Otto. 

Peter said nothing else before he jumped off the building. Miles watched him swing for a moment before he followed. He still had so much to learn…


	7. Do You Believe in Magic?

> Chapter Seven: Do You Believe in Magic?

“Peter…?”

The call had come in that morning. The nurse from the Raft had spoken to him in a hurried, annoyed tone. She clearly had been expecting Peter to take the news better than he had. He should have felt good about it. He should have been okay with it. It was _good_ news… but he couldn’t see it that way.

MJ shook his shoulder gently. “Peter?” she whispered. There was concern in her voice and he was glad she was there. She was probably glad that he had called her at all. He was usually inclined to do things like this on his own. He didn’t like to worry others or cause them to go out of their way to make sure he was okay. He turned to her, his eyes wide and vacant. He couldn’t believe it…

Otto Octavius was dead.

A representative from the Raft woke him up with a phone call to tell him that he had passed in the night. It had been a brutal final few hours for him. They had tried to revive him, but none of their efforts had been able to save him. She told him that he was the emergency contact and that he needed to come down to sign a few papers. Otto had no next-of-kin. Peter was the closest thing the man had had to family.

He leaned on the railing of the ferry as it took them to the prison. The cool bay air did nothing to brighten his mood, despite it being a beautiful morning. “I… should be happy,” he muttered to MJ. He just felt numb.

“Why?” She rubbed his back slowly. He didn’t have his suit with him. The last thing he needed was the Raft knowing that he was Spider-man.

“He killed my aunt and he threatened millions of people for some petty revenge scheme… he was working with Beck to do something. I should be happy that he’s gone.”

MJ sighed. “It’s… a delicate situation. I guess we should never be happy when anyone dies… not really.”

He shook his head. “I just keep remembering the Otto I knew… the man I worked with.” He clenched the railing, deforming the metal beneath his hands. “Every time I try to see Doc Ock, all I see is the kind man who cared about the work we were doing and the people we were helping. I can’t just see the man they all hate. They didn’t know him… not like I did.” He closed his eyes. “May can finally rest in peace.”

“She was already resting in peace,” she assured him. “Just knowing who you are and what you’ve done was enough for her.”

He looked down at the water. A part of him just wanted to jump. Otto naming him as the benefactor and his only next of kin was the last kick in the gut he had given him. He wanted Peter to suffer, no matter what. Even when he was dead, he was still making Peter’s life hell. MJ seemed to know what he was thinking. “After today, you never have to think about him again.”

He nodded, but he couldn’t think like that. Otto had been a good man before… before the arms. Before Devil’s Breath. He’d never stop thinking about the tragedy that was Dr. Otto Octavius. “I wonder if that means Beck will back off,” he suggested with a shrug. One thing that bothered him was that Beck wasn’t holding his identity hostage. He seemed perfectly content with keeping it to himself and letting things play out normally. He had no demands. Nothing about Beck’s plans and motives made any sense. Now with Otto gone, did that mean he had no plans or motives? That would make since. Beck was brilliant, but he wasn’t able to beat Spider-man alone.

MJ shrugged. “We can only hope.”

When they got to the Raft, they were led through several layers of security until they entered the medical wing where Otto’s body was. Peter didn’t want to see it. He wanted to just sign a piece of paper and get out of there; but he needed this. He needed to see it. Otto wasn’t dead until Peter saw the body. MJ squeezed his hand as they were led through the medical wing and to the morgue below. The nurse said nothing as she pulled back the sheet covering the body.

Peter’s breath caught and he held back vomit. Otto looked even worse than the last time he had seen him alive. Whatever fat he had left on his body was gone and he looked more like a skeleton than a freshly deceased corpse. “And… we’re _sure_?” he asked, even though he had a hard time believing that anyone in that state could still be alive.

“Positive,” she said. “Is this an affirmative ID?”

He couldn’t say for sure that this was the same man he had worked with. This was nothing more than a skeleton of the Otto Octavius he had known. A shiver went down his spine and MJ gripped his hand a little tighter. “Yes,” he said. “Were you… there when he died?” She nodded. “What did he say?”

She shrugged. The way she was handling this was cold. He knew he was being unreasonable to think that she would have any sort of compassion for Otto, but it still stung that he seemed to be the only person in the room who cared about the dead man on the table. “Not much. It was mostly just insane ramblings. He seemed like he needed to say something, but he couldn’t quite get the words out. There were tears, though.”

Peter bit his lip. He tried not to look too upset about any of this. Otto was a monster and he deserved the death he had received. Telling himself that didn’t make him believe it any more than he did. “Thank you.” He tore his eyes away from the body. “Show me the paperwork I need to sign and then I’ll be out of your hair.”

She nodded and led them to an office where she handed him some papers to sign. Once that was finished, she looked over. “Alright. He will be cremated and his ashes destroyed, if that’s what you want.” He felt like Otto deserved better than that; but in truth, he didn’t. His body deserved to be dumped in the ocean and forgotten.

“Yeah… do whatever is protocol…” he said and then he walked out of the office in a daze. It didn’t seem real. Otto was dead. Whatever grand scheme he had been working on was dead and gone with him.

As they were led out of the medical wing, they passed one of the guards. He held his rifle close to his chest and didn’t move as they passed. A shiver went down Peter’s spine and he spun around to look at the guard. He hadn’t moved, but he was watching them intently. Peter locked eyes with the guard for a moment and a cold feeling radiated from his stomach before he tore his eyes away and followed the nurse and MJ out of the prison.

Everywhere he went for the next few days, the headlines had something about Otto; his life, his legacy and his death. Peter wanted to forget it all. He wanted Otto’s death to be the end of him and the end of whatever hold he had on Peter’s life. That wasn’t what was happening, though. Even dead, Otto was invading Peter’s life.

A news story was playing at the F.E.A.S.T. center as he served coffee. An elderly woman scoffed at the TV. “Good riddance, I say,” she snapped at Peter as he poured her coffee. “What do you think, Peter?”

“I think the world is better off with him dead,” he agreed. He didn’t wholly agree with the statement, but to say anything good about Otto was to go against everything everyone else knew about Otto. They didn’t know the kind and selfless man that Peter had known. All they knew was the person he had become. That wasn’t the person Peter wanted to remember, but it was the one the world would remember.

He left the woman to mutter at the TV and went to the kitchen to refill his pot. “You’re wasting your talents here, Peter,” Rio said as he shut the door behind him. “You should be out there in some science field. This isn’t your calling.”

“Well, my last job didn’t go so well,” he said with a shrug. She knew that Peter had been working with Otto.

“He died his week, didn’t he?”

Peter held back a sigh. There was no reason to make her feel bad for bringing it up. “Yes,” he answered in a soft voice.

“I’m sorry, Peter… no matter what he became, and what he did, it still must be hard for you.”

He didn’t look at her, but he appreciated her words. Most people had just assumed that he’d be relieved that his aunt’s killer was dead. What they didn’t understand was that his aunt’s killer was also one of his good friends at one point. Otto’s death had been more than just losing an enemy. It was like losing him again. “I appreciate you, Rio.”

She laughed. “Your aunt would come down from heaven and give me a stern talking to if I didn’t take care of you,” she teased. Peter smiled despite everything that was going through his head. It was the first genuine smile he had mustered since Otto’s death. Maybe… maybe he _could_ move on. He didn’t feel like working at F.E.A.S.T. was a waist, but he did feel like he could be doing more with his life.

Miles showed up a few hours later while Peter was moving some clothes from the washer to the dryer. The kid jumped to sit on one of the washing machines that were still running. “How are you feeling?”

Peter smiled. “You tell MJ that if she wants to know how I’m feeling, she can ask me herself.”

Miles’ smile fell at having been found out so quickly. “She said that you would say you were fine to keep her from worrying.”

“And I’ll tell you the same thing.” He finished the clothes and set the dryer before walking to other one and starting the process of unloading. They had just gotten a massive donation of clothes from an estate and they had to make sure everything was sanitized before they passed them out. Some of the interview clothes would be kept in their facility for people attempting to get jobs.

“Yeah,” Miles continued without bothering to ask if Peter needed any help. He didn’t, but it was funny that Miles didn’t even think to ask. “But… are you? Isn’t it a good thing?”

He shrugged. “I guess it means I can finally bury that time of my life,” he said quietly. It was hard to explain what he was going through. He knew that it was a good thing for most of the people involved. Otto could no longer terrorize anyone now that he was dead; but it still hurt Peter. “You can tell her that I _will_ be fine.” He looked around to make sure no one was there and then he picked up a laundry basket with a comically large amount of clothes in it. Normal people would struggle with it, but he could lift it with one hand. “What we need to do now is find Beck and make sure Otto’s death means that he is finished.”

“Do people think you’re still working with him?” Miles asked.

“Probably. We need to put an end to that before this gets any further.”

As if talking about it had manifested it, his phone went off with an alert. Mysterio was on the move. “Speak of the devil,” Miles said with a smile.

Despite it all, Peter smiled too. Maybe going after Quinten would be a good workout. He needed to work through some things anyway. “Let’s go.”

Fine minutes later, he and Miles were dressed and swinging through the city. Beck without a criminal mastermind backing him was just an illusionist without a plan. The tablet didn’t even cross Peter’s mind. He didn’t believe that it had any powers. They just had to take Mysterio down and then they could work on getting back into the swing of things.

Once they landed in Central Park green mist was covering a good portion of the area. “Alright,” Peter said to Miles before they stepped into the fog. “Remember… Mysterio _doesn’t_ have powers. Nothing you’re about to see is real.”

“I got it.”

Peter shook his head. Miles’ cocky attitude might be the thing that got him killed if that kept up. The kid needed to understand. “I mean it. The illusions will look real and you’ll want to believe everything you’re seeing. Trust your instincts and stay close.” He didn’t feel right about bringing Miles into this fight, but he knew that if he sent Miles away, he wouldn’t go. He’d stay and get himself hurt in the process.

They stepped into the green mist and instantly they were overwhelmed with the stuff. He looked around, but it was thick like pea soup. Not the most ideal situation, but it wasn’t the worst either. He was worried about Miles’ Spider-sense. He hadn’t trained with it as much and they would have to have a few words about how it works. He was going to find it very invasive for this fight, though.

“Spider-man!” a voice boomed. Peter sighed. Mysterio had always been one for theatrics. It made sense, but it still annoyed him. “Have you come to die?”

“Not today, Beck,” Peter called back, placing a hand on Miles’ shoulder. “Maybe check back tomorrow?”

Mysterio laughed. “Always with the jokes. It’s good to know that your sense of humor is still intact.”

“Otto’s dead!” Peter returned.

Mysterio’s gloating laughter died. “What? He’s gone?”

“Hate to break it to you!”

“No!” Beck shouted. Suddenly Peter’s senses shot up and he dragged Miles out of the way of an incoming attack. His eyes widened as a dragon shot past them. The creature was incredible in detail. It was an beast straight out of Asian myth with brilliant emerald green scales that glistened in what sunlight penetrated the mist.

“Spidey…”

“Don’t worry,” Peter grumbled. His senses had gone up, but that was impossible. The thing couldn’t be real… it _couldn’t._ As if the universe wanted to prove him wrong, the beast whipped around and flew towards him. Peter tried to ignore his senses telling him to get out of the way, but once it got within striking distance, his body moved on its own. He dodged left while pushing Miles right. The dragon whipped its serpentine head towards him, and its teeth grazed his shoulder, tearing his suit and flesh.

He hit the ground hard and was suddenly in survival mode. _Something_ was real in that creature. “Get out of here, Kid!” Peter shouted as he scrambled away from the dragon coming at him. Had it been an animal that actually existed, Peter could believe that Mysterio had gotten and trained it, but this… Dragons weren’t _real!_ The didn’t stop the animal from chomping away. Through the tear in his suit, Peter could feel the hot breath of the creature on his exposed skin as he rolled away from another attack.

_It’s not real_ , he thought desperately as he managed to get on his feet. _It’s not real… It’s_ not _real!_ But the pain in his shoulder throbbed. He fired web at the animal and found purchase. His eyes widened and he yanked the webbing, unbalancing the dragon’s flight pattern. It adjusted quickly and whipped around, hitting Peter with its tail and sending him flying.

Before he could react, it was coming after him. He rolled, but the attack didn’t happen. Instead, he heard the animal roar as Miles tackled it away from Peter. He slammed an electric hand onto the animal and it threw him before retreating into the mist. “I told you to leave,” Peter snapped.

“It’s a good thing I didn’t. You’d be toast by now if I had.”

Peter didn’t want to admit it, but the dragon had thrown him off. That wasn’t what he had been expecting to happen.

“Do you believe in magic?” Mysterio called from wherever he was.

Peter stood. “No. Not even in a young girl’s heart.”

That got a laughing response. “You will, Spider-man! You will!”

“Otto is _dead.”_ Peter reiterated. “Whatever grand scheme you had with him, it’s over. He’s gone!”

Suddenly, Mysterio in his fish bowl costume was right in front of him. Peter jumped back, but Mysterio didn’t attack. “No… our plans can continue without Doctor Octavius! I don’t need him to bring you down! Not with the Tablet of Order and Chaos!”

“It’s a rock,” Peter spat, but he wasn’t sure how convinced he was about that after fighting a dragon. His shoulder throbbed in response to that thought, reminding him of what had happened. Miles patted him gently on the back as if to reassure him.

“Is it?” Mysterio asked.

“Yes!”

He nodded slowly. “I see. Are you sure?” He stepped towards Peter and Miles stepped between them. Peter put a hand on the kid’s shoulder to calm him. Beck wasn’t a threat. “You don’t feel anything?”

Peter shook his head. He was beginning to feel a little fuzzy; and hot. He stumbled slightly, leaning more heavily on Miles. “Poison…” he grumbled. “The dragon.” He didn’t want to believe that the dragon had been real, but that would mean finding another explanation for the attack. He pushed Miles out of the way and stepped towards Mysterio.

He had something in his hands. A box. It looked like a puzzle box. Peter made sure Miles was behind him. “What is this?” Mysterio said nothing. Instead, he opened the box and a black thing lunged out of it towards Peter. His spider-sense went haywire as the thing landed on him and started spreading. “What the hell?” Peter gasped, rubbing the thing as if it were a bug to be removed. It began spreading and Mysterio turned to leave. “Beck!” Peter shouted. “What is this?”

“The plan,” he answered.

The thing was spreading over his body, invading him as he tried to claw it off. It was sentient. There was hatred coming from it. Flashes entered his mind. Flashes of experimentation. This thing had been taken from a lab. He dropped to his knees, trying to reject the thing as violently as possible. “Beck!” The mist around them was disappearing.

“With or without Otto… the show must go on.”


	8. Coursing Through My Veins

> Chapter Eight: Coursing Through My Veins

Norman Osborn sat in his living room cradling a small glass to whiskey in his hands. The large penthouse was much too quiet now for his liking. Without Harry and his mother in the house, it was nothing more than a well-maintained tomb; cold and pristine, like a mausoleum. He chuckled as he sipped the bitter liquid. After Devil’s Breath, his campaign had fallen apart and he had done everything in his power to keep his company from going under. The scandals would have sunk Oscorp, so the Board settled; by firing him.

He looked to the hidden door. He had nothing left… Nothing but saving his son. He took the glass and hurled it against the wall, shattering it. The liquid dripped down the wall silently.

“I bet you wasted some good whiskey.”

Norman didn’t even flinch at the voice. He was more concerned with _how_ the man had gotten here. How many guards did he not have anymore? He stood to face the man in the doorway. “How are the wife and children?” he asked. The man standing before him was standing in the shadows, leaning against the wall without seemingly without a care in the world.

“Fine,” he said with a shrug. He didn’t sound like he cared about the wife and the children. Norman didn’t care either.

“Good. I gave you Project Venom… Now, you owe me something in return.”

The man nodded slowly. “Of course.”

Norman stood and walked to the window. He wasn’t too worried about the man attacking him. Their partnership was mutual… for now. “Am I allowed to ask what you did with it?”

“Am I allowed to ask why I’m breaking Mr. Negative out of prison?”

Norman shook his head with a soft laugh. That should have been expected. The man was secretive, Norman didn’t even know his new partner’s name. “Mr. Negative might be able to assist me on a very special project.”

“That has to deal with the Venom?” Norman nodded. “Well, _my_ project is underway. The Venom has been released.”

Norman’s blood ran cold and he was glad that he wasn’t facing the man. Released? No… that wasn’t what was supposed to happen! The Venom needed to be contained! He had spent years researching with the thing and had spent millions trying to use it. Unleashing it… could bring the city to its knees overnight. He turned back to the man. “What… have you done?”

When he opened his eyes, Miles was kneeling beside him, wringing his fingers with worry. Peter didn’t know what happened, but he felt like he had been hit by a track. “Hey,” he grumbled. Miles flinched and then gasped.

“You’re alive!”

“Yeah…” He tried to sit up, but his head swam, sending him back down. Miles but his hand on his shoulder, keeping him down.

“You’ve been unconscious for about an hour.”

Peter nodded slowly. He wasn’t sure if it was the poison or the thing that Mysterio had thrown at him. Either way, he didn’t think lying in central park was the best thing at that time. People were still pretty angry at him and they had already gathered somewhat of a crowd. Seeing a superhero lying on the ground wasn’t something people saw very often. Peter wanted to tell them that they needed to mind their own business, but he knew that they couldn’t. The moment he had put on this suit, his business was the city’s business.

“Alright… let’s get you home,” Miles said quietly. He stood and offered a hand to Peter, who took it slowly. Miles pulled him up and he winced as he was moved. His body was still weak and sore.

“Did you… see that thing?” Maybe the black thing was just another illusion. Mysterio’s traps had been pretty realistic lately. His throbbing shoulder was proof of that.

Miles nodded, dashing his hopes that the thing had just been another illusion. “What was it?”

“I was hoping you knew…” Peter stumbled forward and Miles grabbed him to give him support. Some things needed to happen. He didn’t know what Mysterio was planning, but clearly he had unleashed the first part of his plan. It didn’t matter that Otto was dead, it seemed. Otto apparently wasn’t as essential to this plan as Peter had thought. It seemed he was relatively inconsequential to the whole operation. That wasn’t good. If Mysterio could continue their plan alone that meant that they had contingency plans.

He and Miles said nothing as they went to his apartment. Miles was reluctant to leave him alone, but he had school tomorrow and Peter didn’t want him staying up all night. Once he had left, Peter fell onto his bed and closed his eyes, exhausted. This… wasn’t good. He had no idea what Mysterio’s plan was. None of this made any sense. There were no connecting links. The Tablet, te black thing… none of this connected in any logical way.

“I guess the first order of business would be to figure out what he threw at me,” Peter grumbled. But first, he needed to change. He couldn’t do any real snooping in his suit. Suddenly, as if his thoughts had manifested it, his suit began morphing. Peter gasped and tried to grab at the clothes, but whatever was happening happened and he was suddenly wearing a t-shirt and sweatpants. “The hell…?” He tugged at the newly formed clothes and cocked his head. They felt and looked like real clothes. That was… odd? To say the least. He still felt almost dirty having the clothes morph like that, but it was interesting.

“Probably has to do with whatever Mysterio gave me…” he grumbled. That made it worse. He sat down at him computer desk and opened up his browser. “What am I going to search for?” he mused. He didn’t know where to begin. Black thing that attacks and bonds? He didn’t know what to even begin searching for. He looked at his phone. It was the middle of the night and MJ was probably sleeping. She probably didn’t want him waking her up to tell her that he didn’t know where to begin.

After staring at the screen for a good thirty minutes, Peter stood slowly from the desk. He was exhausted. Finding this thing’s origins would have to wait. Maybe he could talk to Connors at the Raft and see if he knew about any of this. The Lizard wasn’t lizard-a-fied right now, so Dr. Connors might be willing to help him. He collapsed on his bed and tried not to think about the thing that was on his body and where it had come from.

Peter woke up to the sound of his phone ringing. He fumbled for the phone and found that his arm was felt he had been lifting weights. He groaned as his hand fell from the bedside table. His phone fell from the table as well and he groped for it, finally grabbing it and bringing it to his face. His eyes took a moment to adjust to the bright screen, but when he could see it, he read MJ’s name on the screen. He answered it. “Mor—“

“Why did you attack Norman Osborn last night?” MJ snapped.

Peter blinked. “What…?” he grumbled, sitting up on the bed. He had gotten more sleep than usual, yet he felt like he had spent the night running a marathon.

“You attacked Osborn last night! We have pictures! It’s all anyone is talking about this morning. They’re going to run a story on it this morning.”

Peter stood from his bed and stumbled forward. “What are you talking about? I didn’t attack anyone last night!”

“Pete, we have the pictures and the surveillance videos. You’re lucky Osborn didn’t end up in the hospital. I’m on my way there now to get a statement, but I’m not the first one, and I won’t be the last. What the hell were you thinking?” She was mad. He could tell. He grabbed clothes, but as he went to change, the pajamas that he was wearing shifted to different clothes. He looked down and then shook his head. That was something he’d have to deal with later. For now, he needed to get to Norman and try to talk to him about what had happened.

“I was asleep all night,” he tried to reason with her as he hurried out of the building. Right now, it probably wouldn’t be great for him to go out and swing. People would soon be able to read the story and then they would form their own opinions. Some would like it. After the Devil’s Breath, Norman Osborn wasn’t on everyone’s list of liked people. Some would just take it as another excuse to go after him. Jameson would have a field day with it.

His phone vibrated in his hand as MJ went on to complain about Eddie Brock getting a head start on this. She had called him out of concern, but he also knew she had hoped to get some sort of statement from him. He looked down at his phone while he ran down the stairs. She had sent him pictures from the security camera. Sure enough, there he was, attacking Norman Osborn. The photos were grainy and in greyscale, but he could tell that the suit was off. It was darker. MJ would get fired and blacklisted if anyone knew she was sharing this information. Luckily for her, Peter had no intention of publishing this story himself. He did, however, need to get ahead of this.

“Is there any way you can get this footage with sound?” he asked as he hurried out of the apartment building.

“Y-yeah, sure…” She paused before letting out a long, shaky sigh. “Pete, what’s going on?”

“I don’t know… but I intend to find out.” He hung up after quick good-byes and jumped onto the bus as it stopped at his stop. Swinging would have been faster, but he needed to not be seen as Spider-man right now.

The drive to the apartment was painful and Peter could barely keep himself from jumping from the bus to make the ride faster. By the time he got to Osborn’s house, there were already reporters waiting outside. Luckily he hadn’t come in costume or this would be an even bigger mess. He stepped out of the bus and pushed his way through the crowd. Norman was trying to get the people to leave and his eyes widened when he saw Peter. He pointed. “You!” he called.

“Mr. Osborn!”

Peter spun to see MJ shoving her way towards them. Norman nodded and turned to his guards. “Those two. Let them in.”

The guard nodded and motioned to Peter and MJ. They were escorted inside and no one said anything while they rode the elevator up. MJ grabbed Peter’s hand and squeezed tightly. He squeezed back. He was happy she was there. How else would he get to talk to Norman without raising suspicion?

Once inside the penthouse, Norman walked to his bar and poured himself a drink. “Either of you thirsty?”

“No thanks,” Peter grumbled. He looked around the apartment. It was in shambles. Whoever had attacked here was clearly angry. This wasn’t a targeted attack. It had been meant to send some sort of message. He noticed some of the webbing still dangling on the wall. It should have dissolved by now. The webbing was black, however. He wanted to examine it, but he didn’t have any reason to.

By the time he focused back in, MJ was already asking questions. “Did he… say anything?”

“No,” Norman answered, shaking his head. “He didn’t say anything. After everything he’s done for this city… to come after me.”

Peter resisted the urge to scoff. Spider-man _should_ be going after Norman Osborn, but not like this. “What color was the suit?” Peter asked before MJ could continue.

Norman looked back at him and cocked his head. “Black,” he answered. “But he’s known to swap suits constantly. This isn’t the first time I’ve seen him in a black suit.”

Peter walked to the webbing on the wall. He didn’t care. Maybe Norman would think that he was trying to help. He was, in fact… just not trying to help Norman. He needed to clear his name. “And he said nothing to you? That’s odd…” he reached up and touched the webbing. “He’s usually such a chatterbox.” He moved his eyes, following the webbing to the far wall. He tried not to react. It was leading to that secret room MJ had told him about.

“That’s when I realized something was wrong,” Norman admitted. “Him coming here didn’t seem out of character, but the way he ransacked the place.”

Peter turned back to Norman. “Ransacked?” The man nodded. “He didn’t attack you?”

“No. He was looking for something.” He stood. “I don’t know what. He didn’t demand anything. He just came in and started tearing this place apart. When I finally managed to get the alarms going, he freaked and fled.”

Peter shook his head. This couldn’t have been him. He had been asleep.

 _Had I?_ He questioned. He shook his head slowly. Yes… yes, he had. But, if he had, why did he feel so tired? He closed his eyes, rubbing his forehead. “How’s Harry, Mr. Osborn?” he asked. MJ let out an almost unnoticeable squeak for his brazen question. He didn’t blame her. They weren’t supposed to know that their friend wasn’t actually in Europe. He was sick and dying.

“He’s finding Europe a bit more exciting than he was supposed to. He should be back soon if all goes well. You and he should get together when he returns.”

Peter nodded absently. It would be nice to see Harry again. “Would you consider asking Spider-man what he was looking for?” he asked while trying not to sound too interested. “If he wanted something…”

“Then he should have asked,” Norman finished. “Not come barreling in here like some common criminal. I would have given it to him if I knew what he wanted.”

 _That’s fair…_ Peter remained quiet while MJ and Norman had their interview. He held the glass of water he had been given, cradling it without drinking. Something made him warry to drink anything he was handed. Norman didn’t know he was Spider-man, but that didn’t stop him from fearing that the man would decide that they knew too much.

After an hour or so, MJ and Norman stood, shaking each other’s hands. Peter hung back until she gathered him, and they got into the elevator. Again, the ride in the elevator was silent. They didn’t speak until they were several blocks away from Norman’s apartment building. Even then, it didn’t seem like a good idea to say anything.

“Was it you?” MJ asked finally, keeping her voice low. Peter shook his head. “Then _who_ was it? A copycat?”

He looked down at the clothes he was wearing… the thing that had made them out of nothing. He tugged at his collar. “I think…” The thing had made the clothes based on him thinking about it. It was sentient; to an extent. “I think I know what he was looking for in there. What… _I_ was looking for.”

MJ stopped walking, but Peter didn’t. He couldn’t. If Norman heard any of this conversation, they were both dead. MJ had barely survived a plane crash. She jogged to catch up with him. “What do you mean?”

“I… When I was fighting Mysterio, he had something. It attacked him and bonded, I think; like some sort of parasite. These clothes, their made from it, I think. It’s the only explanation. The black suit…” He shook his head, knowing that he was beginning to sound like a ranting lunatic. “I think the thing was looking for something.”

“Does it think?” MJ asked.

He nodded. “When it bonded, I felt its pain. It was tormented and experimented on. Because falling asleep last night, I thought about finding the thing’s origin.”

MJ turned to look at the looming tower behind them. “And you think… Mr. Osborn is behind this?”

“I don’t know what he’s behind,” Peter admitted. “I also don’t know what he’s capable of. Harry’s not back, so that means Norman is still looking for a cure. Maybe this thing _is_ the cure?”

MJ didn’t say anything for several minutes. The walk in silence was unnerving. Peter didn’t want to think about the implications of this. If this thing originated from Norman’s lab, then did that mean Norman and Beck were in cahoots? He couldn’t imagine Otto working with Norman for any reason. Not long ago, Peter was saving Harry’s dad from his manic mentor. Otto wouldn’t come crawling back to Norman. If he had a choice.

Maybe he didn’t have a choice. Maybe this was the only way to accomplish his goal.

Peter shook his head. It didn’t matter. Otto was dead. None of this was his doing anymore. And, even if it was, he wasn’t around anymore to orchestrate any of this.

“So what you’re saying is that Mysterio attacked you with some sort of parasite that is now taking control of your body and attacking Norman because you wanted to know its origin… Which is apparently with Norman?”

Peter nodded slowly. When she said it, it sounded worse than it sounded in his head. “I know it sounds crazy, MJ, but I’m not crazy. I just don’t know what to do about this… _any_ of this. Now Spider-man is public enemy number one. JJ is going to have a field day with all of this news and the media will run with it.” She gave him a side glance. “I know it’s not all about me, but I can’t save the city if I’m dodging the police.”

She put a hand on his shoulder. He didn’t know what to do about any of this. “We’ll figure it out.”

“I need to talk to Connors,” Peter announced. That came with its own set of problems. Connors was still in prison and now that the entire city thought he had attacked Norman Osborn, they wouldn’t let him anywhere near the Raft. Already it seemed that things were spiraling out of control. He couldn’t let Mysterio win like this. “He might know what’s going on. The man is a genius.”

“When he _is_ a man,” she grumbled. He knew that she didn’t want him going to some criminal for help, but this had to be done. He had to get ahead of this before everyone else chimed in on what was going on.

“I know—” he paused when his phone rang. Nodding to MJ, he lifted it to his ear. “What’s up?”

“Spider-man?” Yuri gasped. “It’s Mr. Negative! He’s escaped!”


	9. Toxic

> Chapter Nine: Toxic

Spider-man sat perched on an anchored boat in the bay, staring at the RAFT. Martin Li… had escaped? He couldn’t seem to comprehend it. What was going on? First Mysterio broke out, then Otto had died, and then this thing had adhered to his body. He looked down at his red suit. When he thought about suiting up, the thing on him had formed a suit… a black suit. It wigged him out to think that this thing had somehow managed to attack Norman, but since it hadn’t hurt the man, Peter hadn’t purged himself of it. At least for now, it was better that he deal with it instead of others. He couldn’t, however, be seen with this black suit on since it had decided to target Norman. The thing had receded and allowed him his traditional red and blue.

Now, however, he had an issue. They weren’t going to let him into the RAFT to get the information. Based on his new friend’s attack on Norman Osborn, he should be in the RAFT alongside those who he had put in there.

“Spider-man!” Yuri’s voice came through his com-link. He looked up at a helicopter as it came towards him. “I’ve given you a pass to get in there today. Don’t make me regret it.” He sighed and rolled his eyes, firing a web to hook onto the ‘copter. At least she knew that they had to put their differences aside until this whole thing blew over.

He crawled up the line and stuck to the side of the helicopter until it landed. Yuri stepped out and Peter jumped beside her and she didn’t miss a beat. That hadn’t changed between them. They worked like a well-oiled machine. He had debated on calling Miles, but he hadn’t wanted him in on this. Miles would take all of this personally. Martin Li had killed Miles’ father. Peter would rather not get revenge into this.

A guard stopped them before they could get too far into the prison. “Are you brining him in?” the guard asked.

“No,” Yuri answered curtly. “He’s with me today.”

“You do realize what he’s done.”

“I realize what we think he’s done,” she snapped. “But innocent until proven guilty. Until you can prove to me that it was he who attacked Norman Osborn, you will leave him alone.”

Peter was surprised to see Yuri defending him so fervently. Once they had passed the guard, he whispered “thank you…”

“I didn’t do it for you,” she clapped back just as quietly. “If Martin Li is back on the streets, I fear you’re the only one who can stop him, and you can’t do that from a jail cell.”

“Right.” He stood up straighter. Was it really that bad? The only reason Li had managed to cause so much damage the last time was because they hadn’t known about him and because he hadn’t been alone. Doc Ock had been a terrifying threat due to his intelligence. Sure, Beck was smart, but nowhere near Otto’s level. Regardless, he didn’t want to waste Yuri’s good faith, so he didn’t argue with her.

He hung back while she watched the security footage. Li’s escape was entirely missing. He was there in his cell for a while and then, in a single frame, he blipped out of existence. While Yuri was talking to the security guards, Peter got closer to the monitor and watched it as carefully as possible.

“He’s not there,” he whispered.

Yuri paused in her berating of the guard to turn to him. “What?”

Peter pointed to the monitor. “He’s not there,” he repeated.

The guard scoffed. “Of course, he is!”

Peter bit back a snide comment berating the guard. Yuri had already taken care of that. In fact, she was reviewing the footage with renewed scrutiny. Peter waited for it to come to her. “Holograms,” she said with a soft intake of air.

He nodded. “That means Beck is in on this.”

Yuri cursed and turned away from the monitor. Beck being involved implied something far worse than Martin Li escaping. He was working with someone. Beck wasn’t a mastermind; at least not like this. He clenched his fists. The only person he could think of who could have done this was Otto… but Otto was dead. He had seen the body. He had watched them bury Otto. He was _dead._ Right?

Without mentioning anything to them, Peter turned and headed for the exit. The guard called after him, but Yuri jogged to his side as he walked. “You know something,” she inferred. Of course. She was too smart for her own good sometimes. Or was she too smart for _his_ own good? He shrugged, deciding that didn’t matter.

“I don’t know what I know,” he admitted. “But what I _do_ know is that Norman Osborn was attacked by someone dressed as me looking for something. He was Martin Li’s target last time, so we can assume that the attack on Osborn has something to do with Li’s escape.”

Yuri nodded slowly, mulling it over. She didn’t seem too concerned that he was trying to shift the blame of the attack to someone else. “So, you want to go to Oscorp and have a simple one on one with Norman.” It wasn’t a question.

“Yes.”

“Will he talk to you?”

Norman _had_ said that if Spider-man had simply made his intentions known, then he would have offered whatever he was looking for. Now it was time for him to make good on that promise. “He’ll talk,” Peter said with a definite nod. If Norman didn’t want to talk, Spider-man had ways to persuade him.

Once he was out of the RAFT and well out of eyesight from anyone watching, he scurried onto the roof of a building. “Alright, you weird black thing… Uh… Suit on?” He flinched as the black ooze covered his body, creating a suit over the red one. “Let’s go.”

As he swung, he let his mind wander. He needed to see Osborn, but he needed to know what the black ooze was looking for. “We have to do this diplomatically,” he said aloud. He _felt_ something get annoyed at that. _Felt._ As if they were his own emotions. “Look,” he reasoned without really knowing to whom, or to what, he was talking. “We can’t just go in there and start beating him up and ransacking his home. Norman Osborn is reasonable.” The annoyed feeling turned into amused disbelief. “Okay, he _can_ be reasonable,” Peter corrected. “Regardless, we need to do this the right way.”

We… he shook his head. Who was the other one in this conversation? He was used to talking to no one, but this didn’t feel like he was talking to himself. He felt like he was talking to someone and they were listening. He landed lightly on the Oscorp building and started crawling towards the penthouse. He’d figure it out later.

Norman was sitting in his living room. The mess that had been made the night before was already cleaned up. Peter had no intention of causing another mess. He very carefully opened a window and slipped inside. Lowering his voice, he spoke out “Norman Osborn.”

Norman didn’t even flinch. “So, you want to talk now?” he asked as he stood from the couch. Peter hung back by the cracked window. “Can I offer you a drink?”

“You can _offer_ one.”

Norman didn’t offer him a drink. Instead, he reached down. Peter tensed, but his Spider sense didn’t warn him of impending danger. He had a file in his hand and he offered it to Peter. “You’re here for this, I assume.”

Peter cautiously stepped forward. Nothing hinted that this was a trap. “To be honest, I’m not sure,” he admitted as he got close. He took the folder and retreated a few steps. Norman seemed resigned. “What is it?”

“That thing you’re wearing… It’s called Project Venom.” The feeling grew angry. Peter tried to quell it. “I didn’t know you’d be the one to get it. It’s dangerous. Purge yourself of it if you can.”

Peter narrowed his eyes as the feeling of anger grew. He tried not to let it influence his next words. He wasn’t as successful as he wanted to be. “Why do you care?” His voice was harsh.

Norman looked away. “You saved my life last year. I am paying back the debt I owe you.”

Peter leafed through the files. The anger buzzed in the back of his head as he skimmed the file. Project Venom was supposed to be a cure-all. Apparently Project Venom was just as dangerous and just as deadly. “Did you learn _nothing_ from Devil’s Breath?” he snapped. The anger found its way in his voice. “What does it do?”

“It bonds,” Norman said. “It was supposed to save people, not hurt them!”

“I’ve seen this episode,” Peter snapped. “Why don’t we change the channel? Did no one teach you not to play God?” He knew that this was for Harry. It _had_ to be, but that detail didn’t seem to cross his mind as he advanced on Norman. His feet moved as if on their own. Norman took steps back. “How many people have to die for your little science projects?” he shouted.

Norman flinched back and didn’t answer for several minutes. “You don’t understand,” he whispered finally. “I’m trying to _help_ people!”

“By messing with this crap?” He threw the file on the table. Everything seemed to blur. He and whatever was feeding him emotions were in concert together. Norman was the object of both their anger. “Is it worth the cost?” Norman said nothing. “Is it?” Peter shouted. Released a long, harsh breath and looked away from Osborn, unable to look at him any longer.

When Norman did speak, his voice was quiet and timid. Peter could almost feel bad that he had terrified Norman so much… _almost._ “That thing on you is dangerous… and it’s _out._ Don’t you understand? You need to destroy it.”

The anger in him turned to rage and his body moved on its own, lunging at Norman and slamming him into the wall harder than he usually roughed up normal humans. He felt Norman’s crack with the hit. He groaned in pain, but didn’t cry out. “You just want us gone so we can’t be traced back to you!” his voice shouted.

Norman’s eyes widened slightly and then he nodded slowly, resigned. “I’m trying to warn you! You think Devil’s Breath was bad, Spider-man? You haven’t seen _anything_ yet! If that thing is able to get out, then it will bring the city to its knees. People will _die._ ”

“And it’ll be your fault.” Peter snapped. He stared at Norman and he stared back. There was something about the look on his face. There was terror there; but it wasn’t fear of the superhero holding him against a wall. It was fear of what he had done. Peter stepped back, allowing Norman to slide down the wall, holding his chest. “What is it?” he asked, his voice quieter.

“It was supposed to save someone close to me,” Norman explained quietly. “But it was unstable… aggressive. It didn’t want to bond with just anyone. We were able to extract bits of it and use it, but it killed most people it has come in contact with. You, however… it likes you.”

Peter shook his head. If it was dangerous, it needed to be destroyed. “How do I destroy it?” he asked quietly. The emotion buzzing in the back of his head turned to fear and anger, directed at him this time.

“Fire,” Norman whispered.

Peter shook his head and picked up the file as we walked towards the window. He paused in front of the window. “Martin Li has escaped the RAFT,” he said quietly. “You might want to consider getting better security.” He jumped from the window, leaving Norman alone in his penthouse.

It took Peter a long time to go home. It was well into the night when he stumbled into his apartment, sitting on the bed. He looked at his hand and the black suit that covered it. He clenched and unclenched his fist, watching the thing mimic fabric perfectly. He traced the webbing of the suit. “Hand,” he said. The thing retreated from his right hand, revealing the red suit underneath.

How dangerous was this thing? How dangerous could it be? All Peter had seen it do was get slightly angry at someone who deserved its anger. It had helped him… hadn’t it? He shook his head. Norman was scared… terrified, even. Was he scared of Project Venom? Or was he scared of Spider-man _having_ it? Peter sighed and fell onto his bed, waiting for something to happen. He didn’t know what he was waiting for… just _something._

Fire…

Norman’s voice echoed through his mind. He had been scared. Maybe he should listen to Norman. He knew what he had done and what he had created. He knew more about the thing than Peter did. He sat up in the bed and turned to a candle on his nightstand. Without really knowing what he was doing, he grabbed the candle and pulled out a lighter, setting the wick on fire. The small flame danced, coming to life.

He looked down at his hand to the black suit covering his red one. Carefully, he brought his hand to the flame, running it over the candle like some kids would do to say that they could run their hand through fire. It was a game he hadn’t engaged in as a child, but he had seen others do it. The black suit didn’t react, and he slowly reached his hand again towards the flame. This time it was steady and slow as he put a finger into the fire.

_Hot!_

He flinched his hand back as the word entered his mind with a voice that sounded alien. It was deep and cold, but the panic and fear were clear in the tone. He waited a moment, but the thing didn’t speak again. He brought his hand back to the flame. The suit on his finger recoiled, revealing the red suit underneath. _He held his finger there until he could smell his suit burning._ When he removed his finger from the fire, the black suit covered the burned bits.

_Why?_ the voice asked. _Why do you burn us?_

“Burn you?” he asked aloud before he even realized that he had spoken. “I don’t even know what you are.”

_But you burn us still?_

Peter shook his head. Now he knew something was wrong. Something _had_ to be wrong. He was hearing voices. “It’s probably Beck,” he decided with a nod. It had to be an illusion.

_No illusion… Just us._

Peter stood from his bed, away from the flame. He stared down at it, watching it dance in the draft that his movement had caused. He shook his head and held out his arms. “Off,” he commanded.

_We want to help,_ the voice purred. _Let us help._

“I don’t need help,” Peter grumbled. “Now, get off.”

_Osborn wants to destroy us because he fears us… fears that we will lead them all to him and his mistakes. He_ should _fear us._

Peter ran his hands over his masked head. He didn’t want to listen to the thing, but maybe…

_We have the information you require._ Suddenly Peter’s mind was full of a flurry of emotions and images. He saw Norman, and he saw Harry. He saw people dying to black ooze that consumed them. Hungry…

“You’ve killed people!”

_We did not_ want _to. No host is as strong._

“What does Norman want?”

_To cure his son,_ it answered in a tone that Peter could swear indicated a shrug. _He is desperate and he will do whatever it takes to save his son. Humans are… odd…_

“Alright, I’m crazy,” Peter grumbled. He reached for his cellphone.

_No!_ His hand stopped without his consent. _Tell no one about us! He wants to destroy us!_

“You’re dangerous,” Peter argued. He didn’t know what to do. Maybe he had to go back to Norman and see if he knew how to remove the thing.

_Yes,_ it hissed. _We are dangerous. Dangerous to Norman Osborn… but not to us. We will not harm our host._

Peter sat down on the bed and held his head in his hands. He needed to figure this out. If this thing was so dangerous, why hadn’t Norman destroyed it before it could be unleashed? He had let Devil’s Breath go because there was still hope in that, but Norman seemed to have all but given up on Project Venom. What was he supposed to do? The advice given to him was to get rid of the thing before it could cause havoc. What kind of havoc could it cause? It seemed relatively harmless. It needed a host and who better to keep it contained than Spider-man?

He fell back onto the bed and held his hand up, observing it.

_We must find Martin Li,_ the voice deduced. _We will find him._

Peter sighed. That was the more pressing matter. The thing on his body might be dangerous, but Li was by far the bigger threat. They still knew nothing about what he was doing and the longer they went without finding him, the worse this could get. Martin Li was a powerful man. His influence powers meant that he could get anyone on his side just by touching them. He jumped out of bed. Sleeping didn’t seem like a good idea while Li was still on the loose. “Alright,” he said to the air. “Let go.” Once Li was back behind bars, he would deal with this thing on his body. Until then, he had bigger fish to fry.

“So… what do I call you?” It felt weird just talking out loud to the thing. “Do you have a name?”

_Name…?_ it said. Its tone was soft, and it sounded like it would be smirking. _We are Venom._


End file.
